St. Mark's Sermons

"The Multi-Faceted, Many Images of Jesus"

2010-02-28T10:27:00.000-08:00

Sermon 02.28.10
“The Multi-Faceted, Many Images of Jesus”

Is Jesus having an identity crisis? It might appear so, on a first reading of today’s text from the gospel of Luke. In the span of five short verses, he is like the month of March – roaring in like a lion and going out like a lamb. He starts out gutsy, telling the Pharisees to take a terse message to Herod. “Go tell that fox”, he says, and you can just imagine that he’s just plain aggravated as all get out. I picture flecks of spit coming out of his mouth as he asserts that he will finish the work that he has started.

And then, just as quickly, he dissolves from his anger, and bemoans the city that will be the place of his death, and wants to comfort it like a mother hen brooding over her chicks. In the other gospel accounts he is actually moved to tears as he pities the fate of Jerusalem and its inhabitants.

So what is going on here – is Jesus a keenly determined man or a a hand-wringing whiner? Now I mean no disrespect here, let me say that. But the character of Jesus changes so dramatically, it’s hard to tell where he is coming from. And it is that chameleon-like quality of Jesus – that he becomes something different for everyone he meets, that makes him just so interesting. He is multi-faceted, having many sides to his nature.

In the gospel texts, we almost see Jesus as the quintessential Renaissance man. He heals, he teaches, he preaches. He eats with sinners. He speaks in parables. He calms the storms. He is a sailor when he is in the fishing boat with Simon Peter. He is a dinner guest at the wedding at Cana. He is a host at the Passover meal in the upper room.
If you ask the priests and scribes who he is, the answer would be “the enemy who threatens the established norms of our faith traditions.” If you ask Pilate or Herod who he is, the answer would be “the thorn in our side whom the unwashed masses want to crown as King.” If you ask the Samaritan woman at the well who he is, the answer would be “the one who knew my entire past without me telling him.” Jesus is perceived differently by everyone he meets.

To illustrate this thought, I’ve brought some pictures with me today. Throughout the centuries, our images of Jesus have changed. The earliest recorded images that were painted in the house churches showed him as the Good Shepherd, carrying a sheep around his shoulders. It is an image, which many people like and identify with – Jesus as protector of the weak and helpless, Jesus as the one who tends the flock.

Think about the stained glass windows that you have seen in churches, or the artwork here in the sanctuary. The painting that we have here is The Head of Christ by Warner Sallman, made popular back in the 1940’s. This image has been reproduced over 500 million times, making it one of the most popular. It shows a serene, composed Savior, not the Jesus who overturned the money changers tables at the temple.
That Jesus was angry, unrestrained and not very shepherdly.

Another painting that is commonly found in the sanctuary is Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, by Heinrich Hofman. You know exactly the one that I mean. In the UCC churches of Western PA, where I was serving before I came here, it was this picture that was displayed most often. This Jesus is depleted and desperate, knowing that the time of betrayal is near and praying to his father that the cup might pass from him. He is pensive, and weighed down, with the inevitability of his impending death.

There are two more images that I would ask you to recall: The first is DaVinci’s masterpiece, The Last Supper. Jesus is serving bread and wine and telling the disciples that these symbols will continue forever to commemorate his passion. This Jesus is concerned with the final meal with his friends, his followers, the one who would betray him and the ones that would desert and deny him, the one who would need to touch Jesus’s side to believe in the resurrection.

These are the standard, classical pieces that many older people identify with. But there are newer pictures of Jesus, that again, show different traits and parts of his personality. And I wanted to show you some of them as well. Here is the laughing Jesus, whose head is tossed back in joy. I like to think that he enjoyed a good joke. And we cannot forget the Jesus who was frequently surrounded by little children. Kids don’t hang all over you unless you are fun to be with.

There’s a wonderful sculpture of Jesus on the cross wearing jeans, surely an image that resonates with youth. I’ve even brought two very modern images of images, both very different in nature. One is a wide-eyed country looking young Jesus, and the other shows a rough and tough Jesus with a tattoo marked “Father” on his arm.
With all these images, is there anyone who can’t find a Jesus to like. That perhaps is one of the messages from today’s text.
There are varied images of Jesus, some of which are dear to our hearts. We serve a risen savior who was not only gutsy, but gracious; not only in charge, but submissive to his father; not only weary and drained, but also glorious in his resurrection.

All of us identify with some image of Jesus, whether from a childhood raised in church surroundings, or from the more contemporary images that I have shown you. He appeals to all, in many roles, and in all surroundings. I think this embodies the words of the UCC statement of faith: “In Jesus Christ, the man of Nazareth, our crucified and risen Savior, you have come to us and shared our common lot, conquering sin and death and reconciling the world to yourself.” Find the Jesus that speaks the most to your soul and hold that for your image.

Our Jesus, the Jesus we love and praise here today, has shown his divinity and humanity in multiple identities, none of which constitutes a crisis. He is multi-faceted. Everyone who knew him during his time on earth saw something different, and all of us in this room have a unique relationship to him. All views are distinctive, yet Hebrews 13:8 tells us that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. No matter how we see him, this is truth indeed. Amen.

"No Concessions, No Compromises"

2010-02-21T12:24:00.001-08:00

Sermon 02.21.10
“No Concessions, No Compromises”

The children were all lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun in charge of the lunch hour had made a note and posted it on the apple tray. “Take only one,” it said. “God is watching”. Moving further along the lunch line was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. A child had written a note and placed it beside the goodies. “Take all you want. God is watching the apples.”

The subject of temptation, specifically the temptation of our Lord, is the focus of the gospel text this morning. It’s a time prior to his ministry. He had been baptized by John in the Jordan River and is immediately led into the desert by the Holy Spirit. No miracles have been performed as of yet, no sermons have been preached, no healings have occured. Jesus is in a place of preparation, of testing, of contemplation, and of temptation. He is wondering at this point, perhaps, about what lies ahead of him as the Savior of the world.

There are 3 temptations, since trouble always comes in threes (you didn’t know that this had a biblical basis, did you?) The devil first appeals to the humanity of Jesus. The verses tell us that he had not eaten in 40 days and he was famished. The devil taunts him – “do a trick,” he suggests, “and take a stone and turn it into a loaf of bread. If you are the Son of God, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

The second temptation is one of power, of greed, based on Let’s make a deal. Bet you didn’t know that this was biblical. The devil says that He has the authority over all the kingdoms of the world, and this can all be had by Jesus, as long as he is willing to worship Satan. Jesus says, “No trade.” I’d like to think that he muttered to himself, “where does this guy get off saying HE has all authority – does he know who he’s talking to? I mean he just alluded to the fact that I’m the son of God.”

The third temptation is putting God to the test. The Devil says that Jesus can hurl himself down from the mountaintop and the angels will be there to protect him, according to the Scriptures. Jesus response: “Don’t even go there. Everyone knows that you don’t spit into the wind. Don’t test God. You will never, even win this one.”

The devil slinks off, but you know that he will eventually come back into the picture, as the text tells us, at an opportune time. But Jesus has held his resolve, relying on the Scriptures for all of his answers, with no concessions and no compromises.

You would think that this would be the model passage from the Bible to show us how to resist temptation. But it just isn’t, most of the time. For modern readers, the problem with the temptation story is that it seems unreal, far removed from our experience. The devil does not appear to us and transport us from place to place. The temptations we experience are often not so clearly recognizable. The choice is not between good and bad, but between bad and worse or good and better.

Let me go back to the very first story that I told about the apples and the cookies. Clearly, if we are told to take one of something, and we take two, that is wrong. But the child’s sign of, “Take all you want” is a can of worms waiting to be opened, a Pandora’s box. Taking an extra cookie for yourself may be an okay thing to do, and taking one for a friend is certainly a nice gesture. But if you take all the cookies for the kids in your neighborhood and leave none for the children behind you in the rest of the cafeteria line, this is not good, even if it sounds like a wonderful philanthropic act.

What we do learn from the story, however, are that there are some ethical instructions that cover the basis for most Christian living. In the first temptation, Jesus shows us that life is more than meeting one’s physical needs. You do not live by bread alone. There must be more and there is more. Selfishly satisfying your own desires is not the path we are called to take. Jesus tells us that that even a single loaf could lead to danger. We are called to lives that are sacrificial for the good of others.

In the second temptation, we are called to be faithful, not necessarily successful by the world’s standards. We cannot be dazzled and consumed by the riches of this world, when another world awaits us where the streets are paved with gold, and there is no more pain and tears. We are called to be true to ourselves and not to other people’s dreams of power and greed.

On the final temptation, we are taught that we must rely on God’s power in our lives. We are to serve God and God alone, and to relinquish control to God’s call for who we are to be. This is the hardest temptation of all, I think, because we all want to believe that we are driving the bus. It’s natural, in a country that takes pride in self-reliance, to think that we can take on anybody, even God. You would think that we would know better by now.

No concessions and no compromises. It’s a tough act to follow. But follow we must if we are to call ourselves Christians. When temptations come, we must find the courage to do as Jesus would have done: to put others before self, to not be seduced by submitting to the popular way, and to allow God’s hand to take precedence over all that we do. May our temptations be few, may our faith remain strong, and may we be led by the Holy Spirit. Amen.

"Forgiving Our Own Sinds"

2010-02-18T12:40:00.001-08:00

Sermon 02.17.10 Ash Wednesday
“Forgiving Our Own Sins”

A very wise theological student wrote in a final examination on church history: “The Protestant Reformation is when the Protestants broke away from the church and began to forgive their own sins.”

Sins – tonight’s text are full of sins and confession of sins, from the prophets’ urging to repent, to David’s emotional outburst when confronted by Nathan about his rape of Bathsheba and murder of her husband Uriah, to Jesus’ condemnation of the practices of the false piety of the Pharisees.

Most churches do not talk a lot about sin anymore, and so I think a brief history lesson on sin and repentance might be interesting before my message. Now, we’re not going to go all the way back to Adam and Eve in the garden. What I want to explain to you is the process of repentance, penance, contrition and redemption that has fallen by the wayside, and brought truth to the statement written by the theological student.

In the early days of the church, during the first few centuries following Jesus’ death, the newly-formed Christian community found itself in the position of having to deal with those who had been baptized – an act that washed away the original sin of Adam & Eve – but were still back-sliding into old transgressions. They needed a way to systematically deal with this improprieties, and in particular, with those individuals who recanted their belief in Christ when faced with death or imprisonment during the Roman rule.

The leaders first response was to make the road back to full inclusion in the church community as long and difficult a process as possible. This is where the process of penance was created. Repenting members spent years being denied the sacraments, were often required to perform obnoxious, repellent tasks and made to focus the remainder of their lives on deeds and works of penance.

The point was to make a lasting impression so that there would not be a second fall from grace. However, the concept of a death-bed confession existed, assuring that someone could still live a lifetime of transgressions and suddenly be absolved at the last possible moment.

This was an attractive proposition to many and so it did little to appease the churches who found themselves up to their necks in young, healthy sinners. It was the Irish St. Patrick who created and popularized the system of private confession and repeatable penances, which he then passed on to parish priests. By the thirteenth century, the penances were lightened, and in some cases, simple contrition was enough to merit a priestly absolution.

In the Protestant tradition, confession has been further weakened by making it a corporate element in the worship service. We confess our sins as a whole, and then assure ourselves of God’s grace. Little emphasis is placed on penance, if any at all. The sentiment is that basically people are okay, they mess up from time to time, and no real transformation of the heart is necessary.

Dietrich Bonhoffer, a Protestant German scholar and theologian argued in this manner: We must ask ourselves…whether we have not been confessing our sins to ourselves and also granting ourselves absolution. And is not the real reason perhaps for countless relapses and the feebleness of Christian obedience to be found precisely in that fact that we are living on self-forgiveness and not real forgiveness.”

And Bonhoffer pretty much nails this one. We are living in a society where there is still an “urge to purge”. Countless celebrity guests have told their deepest sins on the television shows of Jerry Springer and Montel Williams. We have elected officials at the press conference microphones confessing their infidelities. Stockbrokers and automobile makers have been exposed for their greed and disregard for their clients and customers. To be sure, there’s a lot of dirty laundry flapping in the wind, but no sense of contrition. And very little penance. Yes, we’re sorry. But the problem is that we are sorry that we got caught doing whatever we did.

Today, on Ash Wednesday, we are reminded that a little more is required if we are to be fully reconciled to God. The prophet Joel calls for the people to return to God with fasting, weeping, and mourning. I doubt that any of us is ready to take him up on that FULL offer. Paul tells the Corinthians that the person of Christ who knew no sin, became sin so that we might become the righteousness of God. In Psalm 51, King David displays the desperate remorse for his transgressions and offers to God a broken and contrite heart. We must truly confess our sins to God as well as to one another and be prepared to make reparations before absolution is given. Lent is the perfect season to put this into practice.

In the gospel text, Jesus specifically criticizes the Pharisees for their pretentions displays, and reminds them that they need not parade around for others to see their piety. Verse 18 urges them not to let others see their fasting, but by your Father who is in secret, and your father who sees in secret will reward you.” In other words, confess to God and not to the people on the street or to Geraldo Rivera. And certainly don’t look to them for your absolution.

As we enter this Lenten season, let us be aware of our sins against God and neighbor and the need for true contrition and reparations. It is the only means of being reconciled to God through Jesus Christ. Let us find a way of doing Protestant penance for our actions that separate us from others and from our heavenly Father. Rather than the foolish and insipid and lukewarm public confessions that we hear on a daily basis, let us seek time alone with God to declare our sins and our sorrow at having committed them.

As the psalmist says, “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing. May we bring our broken and contrite spirits before the Almighty, and allow God to do the forgiveness. Amen.

"Dare to Glare"

2010-02-14T10:33:00.000-08:00

Sermon 02.14.10
“Dare to Glare”

It’s too bad that sunglasses weren’t invented until 1929. Peter, James and John could each have used a pair up on that mountain top during the Lord’s transfiguration, because we read in the text that Jesus’ face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. In this same passage in Matthew’s gospel it says that his face shone like the sun. Shone like the sun. Something that we haven’t seen too often in Baltimore these days. I almost couldn’t find my prop this morning, since I’ve had very little occasion to wear them. And the disciples were blinded by this sight. On this mountain top experience, there was clearly a glaze.
Dazzling white, shining like the sun. How many here have a good working knowledge of astronomy? Me neither. Some of us have suffered through the science classes where you learn the names of the planets, and how the earth revolves around the sun, but I doubt that we recall many of the facts that we learned in school; only that this orb is very, very, very bright. In fact, the sun is the origin of virtually all of the energy that supports life on earth.

The sun has been burning for 4.6 billion years, yet only in the past two decades have scientists really begun to learn of its power. This planet is do big that you could put a million earths inside it, and it’s so dense that the sunbeams we see today began their journey from the center of the sun before the last ice age. It’s doubtful that we could get a full appreciation in a 15-minute sermon, and that would not be my purpose.

But one of the most interesting phenomena that I would like us to focus on is that the sun has a halo-like corona around it that is thousands of times hotter than the actual surface. The sun is surrounded by smaller suns that are hotter than the core. These mini-suns dare to glare even in the spectacular light of the one huge glow. Now hold that thought as we move through the rest of the Luke’s text.

It is Jesus’ face and body that are transfigured before the apostles that day, and they were blinded by the light. They are blown off their feet by what they see. Right before their eyes, Jesus begins to glow brightly with the glory that is reserved for heavenly beings. And transfigured is the word that is used to describe the process. This word is used only twice in the entire Bible, once in Matthew and once in Mark to depict the event that is the text for today. The Greek word is met-a-morph-o-they – from which we get our word metamorphoses, meaning a dramatic changing from one thing to another. That’s your vocabulary lesson from today’s Gospel.

Jesus’ appearance is dramatically changed. That’s scary enough. But then Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus and start talking to him. I picture the apostles rubbing their eyes or even shielding them in terror as they watch this trio continue their conversation. Moses and Elijah are the two greatest Israelite prophets, loved and revered by the Jewish people. For one to show up is spectacular enough; for both, you almost need to put on your blinders. Then, there’s a repeat performance, reminiscent of Jesus’ baptism, when the Father’s voice breaks through the heavens to inform the disciples that Jesus Christ is the Son, the Beloved. This is what brings the apostles to their knees. Imagine the sun exploding in the sky.

Truly, Peter, James and John are blinded by the light. You know how hard it is to drive into the sun when it’s setting. Or to have a glare in the rear view mirror that makes you try to block and squint and shut it out. You can’t look at it, it’s just too bright. If you have remember occasions when they has been an elipse of the sun, one of the things that you should not do is look directly into it because it can damage your retina and cornea.

The problem in today’s text, however, is not that the apostles shielded their eyes. The problem is that the light was so bright that they had to blink, to close their eyes, even momentarily. It’s obvious that they can’t process what’s happening, because Pete starts babbling. Lord, how about if we throw up a couple of sheds and do a tad of worshipping here. It’s like he couldn’t figure out what to say, so he just utters the first dumb thing that comes to him. There’s a supernova zinging by, lighting up all of heaven, a solar flare that has gone out of control and Peter thinks it’s the Little Dipper.

We are always in the same situation as the disciples. We’re constantly shading our eyes or turning away when it gets too bright. Instead of basking in wonder and amazement and awe, Peter says, shouldn’t we be doing something? We put on our sunglasses so that we can blunt the light and reduce it to an energy source that we can handle. It is much easier for us humans to face a 10-watt night light that the mega electricity that comes from God’s power.

But, the good news in this text is that, as Christians, we are commanded to carry the light of Christ to the community. While we can never be the sun, we can function as the corollas – the smaller orbs that encircle the main planet. We do not have the transfigurative power to call up the ghosts of the prophets and hear heavenly affirmations from God the Father. But we can give off light in our own right. We can dare to glare. There are always opportunities to shine. After the apostles fall to the ground, I think it is significant that a bright cloud overshadowed them. And Jesus says, “Get up, don’t be afraid to pull out your flashlights and spread some of your light.

It is easy to recognize God when there’s a blaze of glory. The shining God moments are clearly visible: a baby’s birth, a gorgeous sunset, a double rainbow, the eclipse of the sun. It is far harder to recognize the smaller lights that are visible – the mini-suns that we carry to the world. But they are there and sometimes poke through the clouds and we can be blinded if we’re not ready for them. Sometimes we are on the receiving ends of the corollas of others.

Several years ago, in North Dakota, a teacher assigned to visit children in a large city hospital received a routine call requesting that she visit a particular child. She took the boy’s name and room and was told by the teacher on the other end of the line, “We’re studying nouns and adverbs in his class now. I’d be grateful if you could help him with his homework so he doesn’t fall behind the others.”
It wasn’t until the visiting teacher got outside the boy’s room that she realized it was located in the hospital’s burn unit. No one had prepared her to find a ten-year old named Martin who was horribly burned and in great pain. She felt that professionally she couldn’t just turn around and walk out, so she awkwardly stammered, “I’m the hospital teacher and your teacher sent me to help you with nouns and adverbs.”

The next morning, the nurse on the burn unit asked her, “What did you do to that boy?’ Before she could finish with a profusion of apologies, the nurse interrupted her. “You don’t understand,” she said. “We’ve been very worried about Martin, but ever since you were here yesterday, his whole attitude is changed. He’s fighting back and responding to treatment. It’s as though this young man has decided to live.

Martin later explained that he had completely given up hope until he saw the teacher. It all changed when he came to a simple realization. With tears of joy, he told the nurse , “Well, they wouldn’t send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a dying boy, would they?”

The Transfiguration does not call us to be "a light at the end of the tunnel," waiting for people lost in the dark to blunder their way towards us. The church is to take the light of the world, the glory of Christ, boldly into the dark places. There is always a cloud lurking right outside our ring of light. Will we move forward and further towards it, like the teacher did, reaching out with the good news of the gospel?
Jesus is the sun, the Transfgured one, we are only the son beams. We are to live our lives in the light and lead others toward Christ by keeping the light alive.
Let us keep our eyes open for shining moments, for times when sunbeams break through the clouds. Let us see how we can brighten the world for others. Let us refrain from picking up the sunglasses, lest we look away or blink when the power from heavens is made manifest. Let us dare to glare in the lives of others. May we experience our own transfigurations so that our hearts and minds are changed forever. Amen.

"Stretching Our Faithfulness"

2010-02-07T05:22:00.000-08:00

Sermon 02.07.10
“Stretching Our Faithfulness”

“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Left everything. They had a lot to leave.

Recently, a first –century fishing boat was recovered from the mud outside of the sea of Galilee. The shell of the boat is 26.5 feet long, 7.5 wide and 4.5 feet deep. Now I’m not one of those people that can do the math here, but I can tell you that when this boat is full of fish and there’s another boat full of fish and they are both in the process of sinking from the weight of their catch, and that fish is the primarily item on the diet of the people in Jesus’ era, leaving this profession at this particular time to follow a non-fisherman is perfectly nuts. Yet three people were willing to take that chance: Simon, James and John.

The text doesn’t tell us that they brought in the fish, sold the catch, pocketed the money and then followed Jesus. They brought the boats to the shore, got out and left everything. No doubt their wives also thought they were nuts when they went home to dinner that night.

This call story from the gospel of Luke is particularly compelling, because it asks us to stretch our faithfulness in numerous ways.

First, it speaks to the disappointment of the disciples. It has been a terrible day, and they had caught nothing. They were in the process of washing out their nets, cleaning up, ready to call it a day. It meant no income for that day. They had been up all night and were exhausted and wanting to go home.

Jesus was not part of the fishing excursion to begin with; he happens to be preaching on the shore and is overwhelmed with the crowds. Wishing to put a little distance between himself and the throng, he invites himself into Simon Peter’s boat and asks him to sail out a little bit from the land. Notice that Peter doesn’t grumble or whine. He just sets out in response to Jesus’ request.

This is the first response of faithfulness, and many of us might find it familiar. After a full day of work on a paying job, there may still be work to be done after coming home – church committee meetings, PTA or Boy Scout commitments, taking meals to an elderly neighbor, telephoning to check in on an aging parent. Sometimes we’re just not in the mood or feel that we don’t have one more ounce of energy for anyone. But we do it anyway. Our faithfulness to respond to those in need or our volunteer activities is the first lesson from today’s text.

The second call to faithfulness comes when Jesus asks Peter to sail out a little further and put the nets out again. I can imagine him thinking to himself, “But I just cleaned those nets”. When our efforts have been less than fruitful, it’s easy to quit. James and John and Peter have been fishing all night with nothing to show for their efforts. Nada, zip, zero. Why in the world should we go through this torture again, was their unspoken response. I’ll bet that everyone in the congregation has been faced with a hopeless situation at one time or another. Can I get an Amen out there?

You have been disappointed over and over by a child, you have worried about a friend for months and months, you have stayed in a situation that is unhealthy waiting for a different response to happen, you have time and again hoped for something that has eluded you. Jesus says to the disciples. This time will be different. This time I am going to do all the work for you. Many times we work so hard without a consultation with the Master. Too often, we have said, “Here’s my plan, God, now please bless it.”

It is a stretch of faithfulness to let God work out God’s plan for our life, rather than thinking that we have to do it all. And curiously, in today’s text, this miracle has nothing to do with healing lepers or curing paralytics. Jesus justs asks the fisherman to do what they have always done – let out the nets. Only this time, he’s on board the ship. Maybe we need to ask Jesus into our boats.

The last stretch of faithfulness is the hardest – to give everything up. Unlike the fisherman, we are not being asked to give up our normal means of livelihood (unless you happen to be Pastor Karen) and leave our businesses and homes behind. Giving up means relinquishing the control, letting go and letting God, giving your heart over to the gospel message.

It’s like the story of a twelve-year old boy who became a Christian during a revival service. His classmates asked him the following week whether he had seen a vision or whether he had heard God speak to him. He told them no, nothing like that had happened, and so they laughed and asked how he could think of himself as a Christian. He thought for a minute and responded: It’s like when you catch a fish; you can’t see the fish or hear the fish, but you know he’s tugging on your line. I just felt God tugging on my heart.” Faithfulness asks not for proof, and that is why it always requires a stretch.

The good news from Luke’s text is the one heard so frequently in the gospel: Do not be afraid. Jesus tells the disciples that from now on they will be catching men. Quite possibly their wives wanted to know if this new occupation paid any better than the old one. But what Jesus is promising is that he has better things waiting for you if you are willing to trust him with your life. That’s really risky business and requires a final test of faith.

The disciples were not chosen because of their outstanding qualities and they were not called in holy places and circumstances. Like us, they were ordinary people who simply were asked to change their priorities and commitments for a life that required them to leave everything material to gain everything spiritual. Jesus says leave it, all of it. All of the baggage that we drag around, that weighs down the boats and causes us to sink. Let it sit on the shore, Jesus says. You won’t need it for the next journey.

Many years ago, in an African country, it was decided to put a suspension bridge across a wide gorge. No one could imagine the work involved or even how to get started. Someone finally decided to shoot an arrow from one side to the other. The arrow carried across the gulf a tiny thread and thus a connection was established. By and by the thread was used to draw a piece of twine across; the twine carried across with it a small rope; and the rope soon carried a cable across, and in good time came the iron chain that the bridge was to hang from.

Although often weak in the beginning stage, a seemingly small amount of faith can be stretched and made stronger. Jesus calls us to stretch our faithfulness to the limit, but promises to stand with us in the boat. Hear the prayer from an fisherman in Melanesia: O Jesus, be the canoe that holds me up in the sea of life; be the rudder that keeps me in the straight road; be the outrigger that supports me in the time of temptation. Let your spirit be my sail that carries me through each day. Keep my body strong, so that I can paddle steadfastly on in this voyage of life. May we cast our nets out just one more time in the spirit of faithfulness to God’s word. Amen.

"Unsportsmanlike Conduct"

2010-01-31T05:01:00.000-08:00

Sermon 01.31.10
“Unsportsmanlike conduct”

Two friends, Bill and Tom, were drinking at a all night café. The got into a discussion about the difference between irritation, anger and rage. At about 1 AM, “Bill said, “Look, Tom, I’ll show you and example of irritation. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number at random. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Finally, when a sleepy voice answered on the other end, Bill said, “I’d like to speak to Jones.”

“There’s no one here named Jones, “ the disgruntled man replied as he hung up.

“That”, Bill said to Tom, “is a man who is irritated.

An hour later, at 2 AM, Bill did the same thing, saying to Tom, “Now I will show you what anger is.” He dialed the same number and let it ring. Eventually, the same sleepy voice answered the phone. Bill asked, “May I speak with Jones>’
“There’s no one here named Jones, came the angry reply, this time louder than before. The man slammed down the receiver.

An hour later, at 3 AM, Bill said, “Now I will show you an example of rage.” He pulled out his phone and dialed the same number for the third time and once more it rang, and rang, and rang. When the same sleepy man answered, Bill said, “Hi, this is Jones. Have their been any calls for me?” (David Holdaway)

Such would seem to be the case in today’s text from Luke, which is a continuation from last week, but has a dramatic ending.. After Jesus says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” the gospel tells us that the all the people in the synagogue spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. Then, in the space of 4 verses, all of this atta boy stuff turns ugly and Jesus is grabbed by both ears and dragged out of town to be thrown over a high cliff. It is the epitome of unsportsman-like conduct.

What on earth did he say to elicit such a dramatic response? Essentially he tells them what they do not want to hear. He has spoken the words of Isaiah the prophet, then told the priests and educated men that he is the fulfillment of the reading. And the people wrongfully assume, Wow – we finally have our own prophet here in Galilee. They are thinking – this is what we really need. The stories that we heard about you in Capernaum were smashing and we’re just so glad that we have you here now and that you’ll minister to us. There are lots of warm fuzzies going around when people think they have an exclusive – something that they have acquired and can claim as their own, do miracles just for them, cater to whatever spiritual condition was needed.

Jesus responds by recounting the stories other prophets, trying to explain that his ministry was not to be controlled and would not be centered in one small area and to one small group of people. He speaks of Elijah, who could not minister but to one widow, when many others in Israel were dying of thirst when there was no rain for 3 and a half years. Similarly, he tells them that the prophet Elisha only cleansed one leper when Israel was full of people in the same condition. Jesus has not come to be their personal prophet gopher to the people of Nazareth, but to all. He reminds them that prophets are never received with honor in their hometown.

What a crushing disappointment, an inconvenient confession, a turn of the tables. Jesus will be calling the shots and will take his ministry to places of his own choosing. His anointing by the Holy Spirit cannot be contained within certain borders. This is nothing but the truth. His reading from Isaiah mentions no specific boundaries and instead, clearly does not include a privileged class. He will be sent to the poor, the captives, the blind. Jesus has told the synagogue nothing but the truth and this has left them irritated, angry and enraged.

When the radical inclusiveness of Jesus’ message becomes clear to those gathered in the synagogue at Nazareth, their commitment to their own community boundaries took precedence over their joy that God had sent a prophet among them. In the end, because they were not able to be open to the prospects of others’ sharing in the bounty of God’s deliverance, they themselves were unable to receive it. It is a sad and bitter moment.

Their reaction is over the top, and in the space of an instant, mob rule takes over and the crowd, whose feelings have been dearly hurt, react in violence. I have seen this happen at youth soccer games, which is unbelievable. Parents who cheer for their children suddenly are upset by a referree’s call and end up rushing onto the field. Unsportsman-like conduct is an understatement. But for Jesus this is just a foreshadowing of what is to come.

This episode will be repeated on Palm Sunday when Jesus enters Jerusalem in triumph amid a grand procession and is dead on the cross 5 days later.

Anger and violence are the last defense of those who have been made to face the truth of their own traditions, which they have long defended and embraced. Learning what we already know is often painfully difficult.

All of us know what it is to be at war with ourselves, sometimes making casualties of those who are guilty of nothing but speaking the truth in love. As Christians, even we are offended that God’s grace would be extended to all. It’s especially hard when it is to people of whom we do not approve. We like to claim Jesus as our own, and speak in terms of personal salvation, rather than view Jesus as the savior of the world. One of my old pastors used to say that the most frequently used word in heaven will be “OH”. Many of us will be surprised and shocked to see who shows up. There may be the poor, the lepers, the marginalized peoples, the drug addicts, the prostitutes, and even those who profess to call themselves “Christians”.

Sometimes, (imagine this), Christians judge other Christians. Many times when I am out in public looking very pastorly with a big cross around my neck, I will find myself engaged in conversation with a person who usually asks, “Are you a Christian?’ Somehow in the course of discussion, I mention that my church is open and affirming to those in the GLBT community, that it includes those who are educated and those who did not finish high school, that it allows strangers to sit in the front pews and embraces all peoples, just as Jesus did, I find out that I am not quite the type of Christian that this person had in mind. They have their own rules about Jesus and religion, and if you don’t want to play, you are ostracized. Unsportsmanlike conduct pops up again. Some of you may have experience as well. This is the mindset of the folks in the synagogue at Nazareth, who expected to have a savior to serve only them, as they saw fit and whom they could control.

Perhaps this is the good news that we are to take from the text this morning. Church arguments will never go away and people will be continued to let their emotions rule over any rationality at times. Congregational divisions will occur and split the church with some degree of regularity, and we will travel the road together from irritation to anger to rage. We will have the truth preached to us by others and sometimes we will listen eagerly, and just as many times, we will be ready to bite off heads and throw the minister off the cliff (but hopefully not in the near future.)

We don’t own Jesus anymore than the people of the synagogue. He did not exclusively come to St. Mark’s UCC, or to all white people of the upper class or to African American pentecostalists who preach in tongures. Christ has come freely to all peoples at all times and in all places. As it says later in Mark’s gospel: For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." For many. This is the good news, that we have a Savior who is gracious to all and came to bring all into the kingdom. Praise God for this freedom. Amen.

"Fear of Great Expectations"

2010-01-24T12:10:00.000-08:00

Sermon 01.24.10
“Fear of Great Expectations”

One day in July, a farmer sat in front of his shack, smoking his corncob pipe. Along came a stranger who asked, “How’s your cotton coming?”
“Ain’t got none” was the answer. “Didn’t plant none. Afraid of the boll weevile.
Well, how’s your corn,” the stranger asked.
“Didn’t plant none,” the farmer replied. “Afraid of the drought.”
“How about your potatoes?”
“Ain’t got none of those either”. “Scared of ‘tater bugs,” came the reply.
The stranger finally asked, “Well, what did you plant?”
“Nothin’” the farmer answered. “I decided to play it safe.”
What we have here is a fear of failure.

Now, every time a preacher begins a sermon in a pulpit there is a certain amount of apprehension and fear. Even if you are as accomplished as Billy Graham or Joel Olsteen, each message is for a different audience and in many cases you are trying to put a new spin or generate novel thoughts on subjects that have been spoken on by experts over many, many years.

The only person who seems to be cool as a cucumber in doing this is Jesus, when he speaks in the synagogue in Galilee from Luke’s text this morning. Maybe it is because he has being doing this for several years. Some of you may recall that our lectionary a few weeks ago was about Jesus remaining in Jerusalem after the Passover and his parents’ finding him in the synogogue. He is accustomed to reading and teaching there, and you can just imagine that when he accepts the scroll from the attendant and unrolls it, there’s no fumbling, dropping or losing one’s place.

Calmly, Jesus selects a text from the prophet Isaiah and begins to read at exactly the right spot, a spot that he may very well have chosen himself. He says the spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he had anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

Just as neatly, he rerolls the scroll and handed it back to the attendant, and sat down. The text tells us that all eyes were on him, waiting for him to give a lesson on Isaiah. And then he blows them away by saying “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

I can imagine the buzz in the synagogue after that statement because it certainly isn’t modest or demurring. Jesus has just admitted to the learned men and scholarly priests that he is the chosen one, he is Harry Potter, so to speak. And he plans to do everything that he just read, through the power of the Holy Spirit. There are great expectations laid out in the scripture from Isaiah, but Jesus has no fear of failure.

No doubt there was mixed reaction to his statement. It would be like me reading the gospel of John and saying that I was the Word made flesh. I think most of you would be skeptical of that admission. Or like when Miss American says she wants to work for world peace. Another pipe dream that rarely holds water. Or most claims by politicians to lower taxes made by them at rallies before they are elected.

Some folks thought that there was a lot of hot air rising in the synagogue that morning. After all, this was a carpenter’s son, not born into a priestly family, and up to this point in Luke’s gospel no miracles have been performed. Jesus just seems to have the knack for public speaking. I’ll bet that there was a lot of eye-rolling and bulletin shuffling during the service at this point, and perhaps some disgusted people got up and left. The nerve of this unknown peasant, they clucked. How dare he claim to be the Messiah?!

Yet for others, the message was welcome. The people of Israel had clung to the passage in Isaiah, awaiting a savior who would proclaim good news and miraculous works to the marginalized peoples. Perhaps their response was “Oh My God – it’s him” with their jaws flapping in the wind. One thing is reasonably certain – when Jesus sat down and gave his pronouncement, no one’s reaction was neutral.

And indeed, when you continue with not just Luke’s gospel, but all the others, Jesus makes good on Isaiah’s words. He tells the people, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” He releases people from their demons, cures those who are blind, and gives freedom to those who are in bondage due to their status or physical conditions.

The question I would propose for our consideration this morning is “How are we continuing this work now and how should we continue it in the future? Christ Jesus lays out great expectations, and I dearly want this congregation to pick up its dreams and move forward according to the gospel message. Isaiah has depicted a situation that is still with us today, over three thousand years later. We are the body of Christ, the saints anointed for ministry, and disciples committed to following Jesus’ lead.

How do we address the same concerns in a modern world, where there are people held captive by their addictions, there is poverty of material goods and spirit in the community, and there are those who need to be released from abusive situations? How are we, St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor? I would suggest to you that our fears and doubts are not about failure, but fear of great expectations. There are a ton of crops to be planted.

But there is another example of faith that I would like to share with you – a story about attitudes, which speaks to St. Mark’s current condition, about where we are as a congregation.
There’s a well-worn story about a man who approached a laborer who was laying bricks and asked him, “What are you doing?” The laborer said, in an annoying manner, “Can’t you see that I’m laying bricks.
The man then walked over to another bricklayer and asked, “What are you doing?” And the workman answered with pride, “I’m building a cathedral.”
One man had a job, there other had a vision. One man was just working on a building, while the other was dreaming of the finished project. They both had the same number of bricks to work with.

St Mark’s has done it’s share of walking the talk, as the saying goes. But we are not done yet, we are just beginning, starting over, getting our second wind. Jesus has great expectations for us, not simple tasks. And we need not fear them because we might fail. With God all things are possible. The needs are great in this neighborhood, and at times it may seem daunting to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. But we have an example to follow, and the Spirit of the Lord is indeed among us, and has anointed us for this purpose as well.

How shall St. Mark’s meet its challenges to thrive in a changing environment, to continue its tradition of extravagant hospitality, to be a beacon of light and hope in this community? As the new Council Members are installed later in the worship service, let us commit with them to not shy away from Christ’s great expectations, but find new ways of tending to the poor, the oppressed, and the captives. Unlike the farmer in my first illustration, let us plant all the crops that we can, expecting the harvest to be bountiful. The love of God and neighbor has permeated this sanctuary and these buildings over the years. Through grace and the direction of the Holy Spirit, may our efforts be worthy, true, faithful and fruitful. Amen.

"Beloved is your Name"

2010-01-10T14:04:00.001-08:00

Sermon 01.1010
“Beloved is your Name”

Before we get into the meat of the sermon, I want to ask the mothers –both old and young - in the congregation. Once you found out that you were pregnant, be in two years ago or 40 years ago, what did you do after you relayed the news to your spouse?

My guess is that you almost immediately began to think about what to name the baby. Some of you knew that your son would be a junior, and others knew that a favorite family name that would be used. But I’m willing to suggest that many of you bought books about baby names, had arguments with your husband about who wanted what, and in some cases, went home from the hospital with a blank birth certificate until you had just the perfect name for your beloved child.

Today’s passages from both the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament talk about names. And their importance.

Isaiah’s text from the Hebrew Scriptures reports that God said, “I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, you are mine.

I have called you by name. Names have changed a great deal since the time of Isaiah and there’s a part of us that many wonder just how many names God can keep up with. In the year 1950, the most popular names were as follows:
1950 2009
James Mary Ethan Isabella
Michael Linda Jacob Emma
Robert Patricia Noah Olivia
John Susan Aiden Ava
David Deborah Logan Sophia
William Barbara Jackson Madison
Richard Debra Jack Chloe
Thomas Karen Ryan Abigail
Mark Nancy Jayden Addison
Charles Donna Matthew Emily

If you go to a baby name listing, it may begin with Aadi and end with Zan, and I challenge you to tell me if these are boys or girls named. There are all the names in between, like Virginia, and Nathan and Leroy and Katherine. God knows all of them. All of them. To give you just another taste of how many names are out there in the world, I put my own name into a google search and within .42 seconds I found that there were over 3,000,000 hits for Karen Lovelace, and that’s the regular spelling of Karen. Not Karin or Karyn. But God has no problem in remembering any of them.

Many of you can testify that names are particularly important when you are in trouble. What happens when you don’t clean your room or take out the trash or dry the dishes? (wait for response) Yes, one of your parents or guardians would use your entire name. “Timothy Peter Lovelace” I would call out, “You are going to miss the school bus if you don’t hurry. And if you have multiple children, I’ll also bet that you have run through all of them at one time or another before finally reaching the right name. Today our work is simple: the only name we have to remember is Beloved.

The passage from Isaiah speaks of God’s claim on the Israelite people, but it as powerful to us today. I have created you, I have formed you, God says. It doesn’t get more intimate than that. The God who made the asteroids, the sparrow, the earthworm and the glaciers also has fashioned us – mere mortals. And the next 4 verses are that of such a loving parent that I can’t imagine any better description that we could employ. “Do not fear, I have redeemed you, I have called you by name. You are mine.”

“You are mine.” The divine has told us that we belong, that we are held, that there is someone who loves us even when no one else does. How incredible to hear these words coming from a sacred being!! We are God’s beloved creation. My first image is always a mother or a father holding a child and whispering these words. But those of us who are no longer children still need reassurance from time to time and this is the passage to pull out. God knows your name, whether it is Elmer or Melissa or George and God cares equally for you as well as all the others. As the saying goes, if God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it. I’m not sure if Sears makes a model big enough to hold them all.

But hear again, the promise of the God who has claimed Shirley and Anna and Lois, Frank and Harry and Terry:
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned and the flame will not consume you.

Not only are we God’s beloved, we are protected, guarded, shielded from harm. The God who has formed us and created us does not leave us helpless, but declares that we will not endure trials by ourselves. Named, claimed, and saved. No one in your life – not your spouse, your parents, your children or your partners can even come close to the grip that God has on our lives.

The same scene is repeated in Luke’s text concerning the Baptism of Jesus. In the first century, baptism was not originally a naming event, but a purification washing ritual, and interestingly, even in the UCC book of worship, there is no phrase that asks the name of the child.

But God turns the washing of Jesus into a naming occasion. The Holy Spirit appears in the form of a dove, and the voice of God comes from heaven, saying, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased. The claim on the life of Christ Jesus is that he is the Son of the living God and his name is Beloved. Just as God loved Jesus, Jesus loves us. Beloved. There are many names in baby books that mean beloved, but curiously, the actual name of Beloved does not appear.

The Greek word for Beloved is agapetos. We get our word, agape from it, which means the greatest love that anyone can have. It is selfless love, unconditional love, the kind of love that protects from the storm and the fire. This is the love that God has given us through the gift of his Son, Jesus the Christ, name above all names. The Beloved.

The good news from today’s readings is that there is someone called the Beloved who calls each of us beloved as well, even if our given name is Gail or Judy or Steve or Danny. That person has claimed each of us, whether we are Millie or Amy or Frank or Rudy. We serve a God who has redeemed us, and given to us a Son who loves us enough to accompany us through troubles, misery and pain. Jesus will take the time to walk with every one of us - Sandy and Sheila, Loretta and Leonel, in times of peril and danger and will ensure that his children emerge unscathed and whole.

God says in verse 4: “I am with you because you are precious and my sight and honored and I love you. Do not fear, for I am with you. When was the last time we said something like that to a beloved person in our lifes?

This passage assures us that no matter what situation is in your life right now, no matter what is happening with work, friends, neighbors or relatives, you have a lifelong companion who is Jesus and you are beloved to him. We are God’s beloved people, even as Jesus is God’s beloved Son because we are heirs through Christ.

No matter how fashionable name changes are through the years, there is no need to worry about a certain one making the top ten list. The name of the Beloved, the Son, Jesus our Savior, has not changed in over 2000 years, nor will it ever. We can stand on that promise.

God has redeemed all, claimed all, and has not forgotten all of our names. For this we give thanks and praise, that we are beloved in the eyes of the Almighty. Amen.

"One Holy Mess"

2010-01-07T15:45:00.001-08:00

Sermon 12.20.09
One Holy Mess

An elderly woman named Elizabeth who had tried for many years to become pregnant finds herself suddenly with child. Her husband, Zechariah, is now mute, having been struck dumb by the angel Gabriel when he did not believe this possible. Mary, a poor teenager, who is Elizabeth’s cousin, has been told by the same angel that she will bear the Son of God and has conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit even though she is a virgin. Her fiancée, Joseph, is confused and upset and ready to call off the engagement. It may sound like a daytime soap opera or a nighttime reality tv show. Maybe it was Gabrial’s night out for mischief. What I call it is one holy mess.

And now these two women have come together in today’s gospel text to compare their obstetrical conditions. One would expect that there would be great amounts of anxiety and worry. Elizabeth had every right to be concerned about motherhood at such an advanced age. What 50 or 60 year old woman wants to deal with the terrible two’s after years of peaceful quietude? Who wants to be washing out diapers during one’s golden years? What unwed teenage mother hasn’t wrung her hands at her fate? How many have had to explain the situation to boyfriends who then dumped them and ran in the other directions.

Yet, curiously, in the midst of all of this fretfulness and apprehension, there is a calmness. There’s not pity party, no complaining, commiserating or even mild whining. The attitude of these woman is “the pull up your big girl panties and deal with it” practical thinking. And it’s even more.

Instead, there is the sense of joyful anticipation, rather than dread of the circumstances. Mary and Elizabeth have dared to call themselves blessed, rejoicing in the miracles that have taken place. Their worlds are about to be turned upside down, the unthinkable is happening to them, they are in utterly unstable places in their lives, It’s one holy mess and you’d think that eventually one of them would realize this fact.

But they get it in a different way, and at first they are so happy that you have to wonder which of the two is crazier. Even the baby in Elizabeth’s womb is rejoicing. They are looking at the good portions of their lives and praising God for their good fortunes. Mary’s song, called the Magnificat, is bursting with energy and passion. She was an average girl with an average life, who has come from lowliness and elevated to the status as the mother of our Savior. Elizabeth cries out, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” And how wonderful it is that you, the mother of my Lord, has come to see me.”

Both Mary and Elizabeth have opened themselves up to the unexpected presence of the divine in their lives. The pattern of their lives has been interrupted with the unfolding of a miracle. God has come in, scrambled up everything, and turned their worlds on end, and Mary says, “The Mighty One has done great things for me.. Wow – talk about positivity in the face of calamity. We have so much to learn from their example.

Lots of us have holy messes as part of our lives. Right now there’s a great deal of Christmas chaos going on, with only four full shopping days left. For many folks, Christmas is not merry and bright. People worry about getting the right gift, folks fret over not sending cards to people because it’s gotten so expensive. Some family dread the forced-togetherness of the holidays because cousins Sue and Bob can’t be seated next to each other at the dinner table. There will be too many parties with too much fattening food or the parties won’t be as festive because of a separation, a divorce, a death. Unemployment takes the fun out of falalalala.

And yet God continues to draw near. There is no place in our lives that is so messy that God can’t seek us out and find us. There is no situation in our lives that does not contain a blessing or a reason for rejoicing. That is the good news that we need to hear this morning. As they say in the African American churches, “God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.”

But our human tendency is such that when the problems of our lives get too difficult, too overwhelming, too big, we get the sense that God has abandoned us. We shake our fist at heaven and ask, “God, where are you when I’m in such a mess?”

When our lives seem especially frantic…and this is the perfect week to be in this spot, Jesus will still find a way to speak out to us and remind us of his grace and his glory. Even in our busy-ness and even in our Christmas clutter, the Spirit will hover over wrapping paper and arguments with in-laws. In a season of chaos, God is still in control, and you can run, but you can’t hide. Your mess will still contain an element of holiness. God draws near to you, even if you can’t draw near to God. For that alone, we give thanks and praise to the Almighty.

Mary and Elizabeth were bright enough to understand that their predicaments still had profound possibilities. They were willing to look past the negatives and be receptive to God’s plans for their lives. They rejoiced and exalted and magnified the Lord. They did not shake their fists, but talked of promises fulfilled, mercy restored from one generation to another, and being looked upon with favor. Both, at the same time, however, realize their limitations as human mothers.

Rearing kids is like holding a wet bar of soap. Too firm a grasp and it shoots from your hand. Too loose a grasp and it slides away. A gentle but firm grasp keeps it in your control.

Kahil Gibran, in The Prophet, expresses well the hard task of a mother to love completely and deeply and yet always with the task of letting go. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies, but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow; which you cannot visit. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you, for life does not go backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the books from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
May we find time this season, as we consider our holy messes, to give way to rejoicing, for we know that God is at work in our lives somewhere and somehow. May we be open to finding the blessedness rather than the wretchedness. May we allow the spirit of God to lift us up when we are lowly and fill us with good things when we are hungry. May we see the riches of the our lives against the pain. The Spanish have a proverb that says that an ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy, so think hard on the blessings of Elizabeth and Mary.
Let us rejoice and be glad and allow the spirit of God to do great things for us, so that we, too, may magnify the Lord. Amen.

"Now Entering God's Construction Zone"

2010-01-07T15:44:00.001-08:00

Sermon 12.06.09
Now Entering God’s Construction Zone

If you were to be sitting in a doctor’s office in the year 30 AD and paging through a copy of People Magazine, it is highly likely that you would find news about the people mentioned in today’s gospel text from Luke. One page might contain a picture of Emperor Tiberius on his way to an official royal event, another might show Herod chasing a new girlfriend. There would be photos taken at a party attended by Pontius Pilate and Lysanias, plus new book reviews of texts written by Caiphas and Annas. The only person not to be found in the pages of People magazine would be John the Baptist. John is the single most important individual in this passage, and apparently, he’s missing all the action.

John the Baptist is in the margins of the Advent season as well. Most of us love the pictures of Mary and Joseph with the babe in a manger. Some of you will send out cards depicting angels singing Glory to God in the highest. Even the Wise Men are a featured staple. But John the Baptist is not. I dare you to go into a Hallmark store this week and ask them where they have their John the Baptist greeting cards. You can get a card saying you’re sorry that a neighbor’s dog has heartburn, but there is no section for New Testament Prophets at the drugstore.

The problem is both the message AND the messenger. John is rude, crude and has a socially embarrassing attitude. The other gospel texts reveal that he lived alone in the desert eating locusts and honey and wearing a rough woolen garment. It’s certainly not an image that says “Holiday greetings”. He goes from town to town preaching a baptism of repentence. He’s a big pain in the butt for the religious authorities.

The message that he brings does not sound cheerful, upbeat, or jolly. “Get your act together” is what he tells the people. We really want to hear “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” or “Seasons Greetings” and here is a man who has the audacity to dash all of our jovial spirits.

The image that his uses is that of road construction, a hugely important task in the Roman empire: “Prepare the way of the Lord.” He tells the people that the path needs to be smooth. Mountains and hills need to be leveled, valleys are to be filled in. Anything that’s rough or crooked should be fixed.

We can all identify with these images. Our streets are continually being repaved, bridges are being rebuilt to meet safety standards, highway directional signals are repainted regularly and the traffic cone may as well be the state symbol.

But the roads that John talks about are the roads to our hearts, which need to be made straight to Jesus. All of us could use a little construction work at this time of the year.

Some of our paths are full of ruts from doing the same selfish deeds over and over again. Some of our lanes are constantly backed up due to our own pig-headedness in thinking that we own the road. Some of our driveways are too steep when we think that we are the most important people living on the top of the hill.

Some of us need to do repair work on the potholes that we have made in our relationships with co-workers, friends or neighbors. Occasionally, we’ve got to block the street to take care of a water main break or a sinkhole that has completely shut off the path when we have distanced ourselves from a loved one.

The bottom line is that John calls for everyone to put on a yellow hard hat and get to work on whatever it is that needs fixing because the Lord is coming, and it shouldn’t be a rough ride. He preaches a baptism of repentance in a season where the last thing on our minds is spiritual reconstruction. It’s no wonder that he wasn’t in that issue of People magazine.

How do we fix our roads and prepare our paths? How do we make the route ready for the coming King? The apostle Paul mentions one way in his message to the Philippians: He says, “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”

An increase of love might be the blacktop that is needed. A heart that is pure and blameless might be a fresh coat of macadam. The harvest of righteousness might be a small backhoe to attack our apathy, our prejudices, our willingness to look the other way when justice is not being carried out.

Road work is not easy. It takes pure strength and concentration to the task at hand. It takes place in all kinds of weather, there is always the potential to be hurt by an accident with the equipment, or even when a car careens by above the posted speed limit. It means that when there’s a blizzard and everyone is inside relaxing with their hot cocoa, you need to go out in the snow and pave the way.

Making our hearts ready to pave the way for the infant King and Lord of Lords is John’s message, whether we like to hear it or not. To be honest, most of us already have enough to do at this time of year, and would prefer to sub-contract all this road work out to somebody else. Christmas is a time of great preparation, and Lord knows, we don’t want to add sweaty, soul-searching to our already overloaded calendar.

But if we don’t repair the road, our spirits will suffer. You can only ride on ruts for so long before the shock absorbers will give out on the car. The time is coming, John the Baptist says in verse 6, “for all flesh to see the salvation of God.” Do we really want to welcome the Christ Child with a road full of detours and lane closures.

The good news from this morning’s gospel is that we will always have road work with us. It’s not seasonal, it never ends, and there are enough worksites for everyone to be busy.

Make yourselves ready this season by doing the necessary work to spiritually reconnect the path between your heart and the true reason for the season. Make a commitment to get out there and take care of whatever construction is necessary to clear the road and make it level and even. The coming of the Savior draws near; pick up your tools, punch in at the time clock and get on the Lord’s payroll. Put in some overtime if you need to. But get the roadwork done. Amen

"Resolving to do God's Business"

2010-01-07T15:40:00.000-08:00

Sermon 12.27.09
Resolving to do God’s business

It’s the Sunday after Christmas, a rather forlorn time of the year as the holiday season winds down, but we still have the festivities of New Year’s Day and those darn resolutions that we still have yet to make. It’s that time of year when we review our lives and decide where we need to make adjustments, changes, decisions that may impact our well-being. You can’t make a resolution without thinking and mulling over what you have done.

In a Peanuts comic strip, there is a conversation between Lucy and Charlie Brown. Lucy said that life is like a deck chair. Some place it so they can see where they are going; some place it so they can see where they have been, and some place it so they can see where they are at present. Charlie Brown’s reply: “I can’t even get mine unfolded.”

So what does this have to do with the gospel lesson today? Jesus is keeping a resolution that has been made. He’s not lost in this text, he’s not the original poster boy for the Home Alone movies, and he’s not been misplaced by his parents. He is not disobedient. He is just being about his Father’s business, a resolution that begins in the manger as God’s gift to us, the Word made flesh.

We have very little information about the childhood of Jesus. There are a few gospels that were written about these years but never included in our Bibles for a lot of reasons: some depict him as a spoiled brat, others show him wielding his power over playmates. None are from reputable sources and rightfully have no place in the Holy Scriptures. So we are left wondering what happened from the time of Christ’s birth until he formally begins his ministry at the approximate age of 30.

Today’s text is a rare view, then: an appearance by the teenage Jesus, headed to Jerusalem with his family for the feast of the Passover. The fact that he is going at all shows him to be a religious, obedient youth. This passage is only recorded by Luke; none of the other gospel writers include it, which makes it stand out all the more.

After the festival, Mary and Joseph are anxious to return to Nazareth. There is carpentry waiting to be done and household duties. Anyone who has taken a vacation understands that you work twice as hard before you leave and three times as hard when you return.

In those days, folks – entire families – traveled together in caravans. It would not be unusual for Jesus to have been walking with his cousins or friends, and like the Home Alone movie, he is not noticed to be missing until a few days had passed. Mary and Joseph probably turned to each other and said, “But I thought you were watching him.”
Parental panic sets in and where do they find him? Not like a usual teenager, who would probably be hanging out at the mall. He is, instead, at the equivalent of the library. No lost teenager ends up at the synagogue. It’s like running away from home to go to school.

The worry and concern of Mary and Joseph is totally justified. Jerusalem was a big city with all sorts of inherent problems, and no parents wants his or her child to be in a dangerous situation. Plus, the feast of the Passover was over and it was time to end the festivities and go back to a normal routine.
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But the young Jesus refuses to let his relationship with God be regulated according to some prearranged, culturally imposed schedule. Instead of going along on the return-to-business-as-usual attitude, Jesus answered the most important call of all – to be in his Father’s house, to be about his Father’s business.

What would it mean if we were to act in a similar fashion? What would it mean to live, not according to human expectations or cultural patterns, but according to what God required of us? What does it mean to be about God’s business, rather than other people’s business, or even other people’s definition of God’s business?

Jesus discovered that at this early age that answering God’s expectations can get you in trouble – even with your own family. In fact, focusing on God’s business may put an unexpected crimp in the family business. Business-as-usual may not be the way God does business. And the world and the church find that unsettling.

The ultimate New Year’s resolution does not challenge us to cut fat grams or quit smoking or start working out in an aerobics class twice a week. The ultimate resolution a Christian can make is to live in the light of divine intentions, not human norms and expectations. The New Year’s resolution to end all resolutions is to live under the umbrella of God’s kingdom here on earth and to make it our business to be partners in God’s business.

What is God’s business? It’s transformation. We’ve been given the Light of the world so that we can shine brightly, like a city upon a hill. We are to take the light and shine it down to others. We are to make ourselves over, but not on things like counting calories or pushups. We are to be a beacon of hope to others, a bright star that reaches out to neighbors and friends.

Jesus may have been doing God’s business at the synagogue that day, but he returned with his parents and went out into the world to do his ministry. Our resolutions for the new year should not all be self-centered, but might focus for a change on the bigger picture. Perhaps this is the time for a resolution to be part of a prayer chain ministry, or to take a volunteer position at a homeless shelter, or to tutor children who need help in math.

Instead of vowing to walk a mile each day, how about walking a mile each day and picking up trash along the way that is spoiling God’s beautiful creation? Instead of just cutting down on calories, how about donating the money that you didn’t spend on Twinkies to the local food pantry? Instead of just vowing to spend more time with your children, how about additionally including other children by volunteering with a boy or girl scout troop that needs new role models. Make all the New Year’s resolutions that you want, but make them bigger than yourself. Make them big enough to include others, your brothers and sisters in Christ.

Like Charlie Brown, it’s time to figure out how to unfold the deck chair as a starting point for reviewing your life and making changes. But then it’s time to take it down to the community center, the supermarket, the church and the office, where you can envision yourself doing more than just fulfilling personal resolutions.. Your life, your commitment to the ultimate resolution, can help the love of God through Christ to transform the world. The year is full of spiritual opportunities. May we each find a way to fulfill our commitment to resolving to do God’s business in the year 2010. Amen.

"The Will-Power of Looking Forward

2010-01-07T15:39:00.000-08:00

Sermon 12.13.09
“The Will-Power of Looking Forward”

Well, this morning we have to deal again, with John the Baptist, being his usual cranky self. Despite the fact that it appears to be standing room only at the Jordan River, he’s not happy about his ministry. Let me read you the Bible translation from Eugene Peterson’s book called the Message:

When crowds of people came out for baptism because it was the popular thing to do, John exploded. “Brood of snakes! What do you think you’re doing slithering down here to the river? Do you think a little water on your snakeskins is going to deflect God’s judgement? It your life that must change, not your skin. And don’t think you can pull rank by claiming Abraham as father. Being a child of Abraham is neither here nor there – children of Abraham are a dime a dozen. God can make children from stones if he wants. What counts is your life. Is it green and blossoming? Because if it’s deadwood, it goes on the fire.

No doubt, some smart-aleck in the back row mumble, “Tell us how you really feel about us, John.”

What John is telling the people is that it’s not who you know, but what you do. The stories of Scripture are still relevant today, aren’t they? And in this case, John tells us that you will not receive a certificate of participation just by showing up and flashing your family coat of arms. He is telling the people that they must change their lives. Not an easy task, but one requiring will power. He has the nerve, once again, to call this the good news, after he has blasted half of the neighborhood of Galilee.

There are a number of different folks that are on the banks of the river listening. Rather than reacting with dismay at his rantings, they are ready to take the next step, to see what will power is needed. Each of them asks “what should we do?” Should is a future looking verb, a verb that defines an action that will be done in a later period of time. Those that respond to John’s message know that they must repent and make adjustments in order to get right with God; they can’t just get along because their parents were a “legacy”. They need to adopt the life-style of covenant people. And when they ask John for instructions, he is more than happy to tell them their assignments to move forward. Share what you have with others. Be honest in dealing with neighbors. Don’t accuse people of things that they didn’t do. And here’s a hard one: Be content with your pay.

These are not great acts of self-sacrifice, or assignments that can only be done by those who are holier than thou. Mother Teresa says that we may not all be able to do great things, but can do small things with great love.

While John’s gospel text emphasizes the “should and ought to do’s”, the text from the prophet Zephaniah relies on the words of “I will”, which are just as powerful. This is the work that God will do in the future, if we take the time NOW to repent and share John’s baptism. Listen again to the promises of the Lord…

I will rejoice over you with gladness
I will renew you in love
I will exult over you
I will remove disaster from you
I will save the lame and gather the outcast
I will bring you home
I will make you renowned and praised
I will restore your fortunes

Pretty strong statements from the God who has no problems with will-power. All of these promises are good and true for the future. All look forward to a time when the Lord shall reign over people who have been through a baptism of repentance and a baptism of the Holy Spirit. There is a wonderful vision of strategic planning on God’s part, and a reminder of the spiritual accompaniment that happens when you’re walking in the ways of the Lord.

Lastly, the Apostle Paul in his letter to the church at Philippi also provides the people with direct instructions on what they should do to benefit the whole community: rejoice, be gentle, don’t worry, keep praying. There is nothing complicated about these charges. Just use a little will-power. Paul also indicates that these undertakings must be done for the future, because in verse 5, he says the Lord is near.

Will Willimon, the great Methodist preacher, says all of these objectives are within our reach. “To all of you that live in some ordinary place, who lead ordinary lives, engaged in rather ordinary everyday things, besieged by all sorts of injustices and cares and concerns, there is good news. The Messiah is coming and he is coming to you. He calls you to follow him wherever you are , and in the process, to be whomever you can be.

The gospel text tells us this: what is important is your life. How you live it is what matters. Ask yourself the same question that the crowd asked: “what then should we do?” What can we change in our behavior in the future to be a better person. John the Baptist understood that each of us must answer that question as an individual before we can take on society’s problems. He talks about a personal ethical reform, rather than revolution. You can’t change the world unless you make the effort to change your own life first.

There is a story about a man in Jacksonville, Florida who was spending the day on the beach there. The undertow was unusually strong that day, and more than once, lifeguards jumped down from their towers to rescue swimmers from the treacherous surf. Finally, the man went to the lifeguard station to express his appreciation for the dedication of these men. When he walked inside, he noticed a sign on the wall in large red letters: "If in doubt, go!" And the man said, "Those same words should be on the walls of every church and on the wall of every person's soul." --

If in doubt, go. The time of the miracle of Christmas is coming near. Look toward the future, at the manger. Let us all respond with will-power to whatever it is that we should do. If in doubt, go and do the tasks that have been spelled out for you in today’s readings.
Look around. Look ahead. Look forward. God is near and will help us along the journey.

Community of Saints

2009-11-01T17:46:00.000-08:00

Scriptures: Hebrews 11:32-12:2, Revelation 21:1-6a, John 11:32-44

Good morning, friends. It is good to be back with you this morning, especially after an extra hour of sleep! Today is the Christian holiday known as All Saint’s Day, and it’s a pleasure to be reflecting with you on what it means to be a part of the community of saints, particularly in light of the opportunity we’ll have in a few moments to welcome new people into our local church and into communion with us. Will you pray with me?

Loving God, your grace is everywhere. You walk with us in every circumstance of our lives, even as we approach the end of life. Bless us, we pray, with the gift of faith, God. Calm our fears, heal our wounds, and open us to your new life, fully lived, in your kingdom without end.

I recently read the story of Kate Braestrup in her book Here if you Need Me. She is a chaplain to park rangers in Maine, and before she went to seminary her police officer husband had been planning to go into the ministry himself. But one day when he was on the road in his patrol car, he was hit by an oncoming truck and killed instantly, leaving behind his wife Kate and four children under fourteen. Knowing her husband Drew would have wanted it that way, she decides to be the one to prepare his body. Braestrup writes:

Tom, my mother, the two sergeants, and I dressed his body gently in a Class A Maine State Police uniform, crying a little, but laughing a little, too. It’s absurdly difficult to put clothing onto a body that cannot cooperate, and what was there to do but imagine Drew’s amusement at this necessary indignity and laugh with him?...

I washed Drew’s face with a soft, damp cloth. This is what Drew would have done for me, I thought. And in all the time that I shall live without him—time roaring and tumbling at me like some merciless, black avalanche – I will be able to tell myself that I bore our love with my own hands all the way to the last hard place. “Semper fidelis” I told him, washing him tenderly around the mouth and jaw and closed eyes, then smoothing his hair with my hand. Leaving the cool room where Drew’s body lay was harder than it was to enter it.

In our gospel lesson for today, we can imagine Mary and Martha, sisters to Lazarus, carefully washing his face and body, gently wrapping his hands and feet in bands of cloth, covering his face with a cloth, bearing their love with their own hands to that last, hard place. It is difficult for them, because of what could have been. “If only Jesus had been here,” they whisper to one another, sobbing. “If he had been here, our brother would still be with us.”

It is a new phenomenon that people in the United States rarely care for the bodies of deceased loved ones. Before the Civil War, people usually died in their beds at home. But with the trauma of the war, thousands upon thousands of young men were killed on the battlefield. Families began to pay undertakers to retrieve and preserve their son’s bodies, bringing them home for the last goodbye at the funeral.

I know most of us would not feel equal to caring for a loved one’s body. But I wonder if something is lost when we have so much distance from the facts of death and that final chance to show care once more to a loved one’s body, personally. I wonder if a certain amount of distance increases the fear death can command, since it has become less and less a part of day-to-day life.

In any case, as Christians, we have a unique perspective on death and how it relates to faith and a life lived in Christ. In our story today, Lazarus’ sister Mary tells Jesus, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus doesn’t dismiss the pain of the loss of Lazarus. He is greatly troubled and begins to weep, which, honestly, isn’t what you’d expect from someone who is about to raise his friend from the dead.

They go to the tomb – a cave with its entrance sealed by a stone. Jesus orders the stone rolled away, but Martha objects, based on what she expects to find. “Don’t do that, Jesus,” she warns, “He’s going to smell really bad.” But Jesus thanks God for the chance to demonstrate God’s goodness, and then calls to Lazarus, who rises and walks out of the tomb, still bound and covered by burial clothes.

We might wonder, hearing this story, why death exists at all. What is God’s purpose in it? Death is, for the living, a reminder of our own limits. As much as we have and do and try, or conversely, as little as we have and do and try, in the end death waits for all of us.

The raising of Lazarus pre-figures Jesus’ own resurrection. In fact, it is the act of ministry that, according to the writer of John, leads the powers that be to make plans to kill Jesus off. Yet Jesus’ resurrection is different, too. He is not brought back to life by a human healer, but by the unquenchable power of God’s own life. As Christians rooted in the power of the resurrection story, we have a promise and a hope for abundant life in Jesus Christ, in this life and the next. The resurrection of Jesus prefigures what God will do for all of us – make us holy, and give us new life, a new heaven, a new earth.

Sometimes we think of saints as being Christian superheros – people like Mother Teresa or Francis of Assisi, who gave up their lives to serve the poor. But I like the language we heard today in Hebrews. “We are surrounded,” the author writes, “by a cloud of witnesses.” Saints are made holy by what we witness – God’s saving power in our lives and in the world.

When Jesus rose from the dead, he sparked a new community of faith. This community of saints is made up of witnesses to God’s love, people made holy by God’s loving work in their lives through Jesus. We gather here as a community of saints, at St. Mark’s, not out of a sense of being extra good, but out of gratitude. We come giving thanks for God’s healing work in our lives, and we come with a desire to pray together, to encourage each other, to learn and grow, to serve and love, and to be sent out again to our individual ministries in the wider world.

Today, there is indeed much to be grateful for. We welcome Holly and Trish as new members of this particular local church – this little section of that great cloud of witnesses, living and dead, and we invite Miranda and Michael to the communion table today to share in the community of saints founded by Jesus. These are gifts of God’s grace.

The kingdom of God, oddly, is both present with us now and yet to be revealed. In the same way, we have new life in Christ, we are a community of saints, and at the same time, the fullness of that life is yet to be revealed. Last week, I attended the lantern parade at Patterson Park. It was after dark, and there were hundreds of people carrying lanterns of different shapes and sizes, parading together, carrying their lights with them. As I looked across the park and saw the line of lanterns curving over the dark hills, I had a sudden picture of what the kingdom of God might be like – a community of saints, carrying our lanterns together, bearing God’s light into the world. May God’s new life, new heaven and new earth be manifest among us. Thanks be to God, Amen.

Love and Reality

2009-10-04T17:42:00.000-07:00

Scripture: Mark 10:2-16

Good morning friends. What a gift to be here together this morning. This morning’s gospel is a little more of a challenge than usual, so let us be in prayer together.

Loving God, we need your grace. Dwell with us here in this place. Open my mouth to share wisdom. Open our hearts to your word to us. Open our eyes to see your kingdom among us. You are the one we rely on. Guide and strengthen us, we pray. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

I have to say that, honestly, I was not excited to preach about this week’s gospel lesson. The main topic is divorce – the Pharisees ask Jesus if it’s okay to get one, and he says, no, because marriage changes two people into one person. How can you split a person apart and have that be God’s will?

There is some political background here that explains why the Pharisees ask Jesus this question in the first place. The king of Judea at the time – Herod – had divorced his wife so that he could marry his brother’s wife. She had divorced the brother to be able to marry Herod. It was more drama than Princess Di, Prince Charles and Camilla.

John the Baptist, Jesus’ mentor, had spoken out against this as wrong, and as a result, Herod put him in jail. But when someone put him up to it, Herod had John killed, rather than go back on his word. As you can see, it was a big risk in those days to even comment on the local king’s domestic affairs. The Pharisees know this, so asking Jesus about divorce is another attempt at painting him into a corner. And instead of agreeing or disagreeing with the law handed down by Moses, Jesus goes back to the basic meaning of marriage in the creation. He goes beyond and above the law.

There’s a way in which Jesus is speaking out in favor of the vulnerable by going against divorce. Even today, divorce usually affects women more than men, in terms of economics. In Jesus’ day this was much more extreme. Women without a husband were left destitute if they had no male relatives to support them. Imagine the insecurity that kind of an arrangement would inspire! If a husband who decided to use that threat, even the possibility of divorce would be enough to take advantage of his wife’s vulnerability. “Because of your hard-heartedness,” Jesus says, “Moses made that law for you. But it’s not what God intended.”

So that’s some of the background to what’s going on in the gospel lesson this morning. But the big, glaring thing that’s sitting in the foreground for me is what happens in our lives today around divorce. I have plenty of family and friends who have been through divorce, and some who even midway through the process right now. I would imagine many of us have been through the experience ourselves or have seen someone we love go through it. And as Jesus faces down the Pharisees, he sure makes it sound pretty simple, as though choosing to get a divorce were like choosing to go to a new restaurant, instead of an old favorite. Divorce is painful enough, not something that most people choose happily or thoughtlessly. I don’t want to add yet another layer of guilt over something that is as much a tragedy as it is a sin.

And yet, here’s Jesus saying, ‘that’s not what God wants for you,’ and I want to say back, “Well, we can’t always do that.” Which leaves this huge gap – a chasm – between what God wants for us, and what can happen instead. One of the Greek words we translate now as sin has a meaning from archery of falling short and missing the mark. At its most basic, divorce represents our limits as humans – that there are some things that can’t be forgiven, some divides too deep to bridge, and some wounds that are simply fatal to a relationship. There is Jesus’ vision of love, and there is reality.

Divorce, of course, isn’t the only way we can fall short of God’s intentions for us, of course. It just has the dubious honor of being relatively public – something that all our friends and family and extended networks eventually find out about. By contrast, someone might betray their marriage vows by abusing their spouse for years without anyone besides the victim knowing for sure what is going on. Or what would it be like for us if, every time we held a grudge everybody in the church, and all our friends and family, knew it? I guess it depends on what kind of a grudge you’re holding. In love, Jesus calls us to forgive, but in reality it’s a hard thing to do.

What’s ironic, in a way, is that one of the things Jesus calls us to do is to love and care for those who are vulnerable and in need. This is an ongoing refrain. In the second section of our gospel lesson, he shoos the disciples away when they try to keep little kids from coming to him. Instead of sending them away, he welcomes the children, hugging them and blessing them, caring for them in their vulnerability. And yet, even though this is something so important to Jesus, our falling short on our care for the vulnerable rarely gets the kind of local publicity that a divorce does.

In this passage, Jesus is inviting us to be part of the kingdom of God. What does it mean to live out a good marriage, and to live out good friendships, and to live out good relationships with our families, and with our co-workers and neighbors and random people on the street – what does it mean for our relationships to say that we are Christian? How does being part of the kingdom of God affect them? I’d like to lay out four ways.

First, there is treating others the way you’d like to be treated. Jesus talks about the married couple as being one flesh. This means seeing the health and well-being of your spouse tied to your own well-being. Decisions are made as a unit, for the good of the whole. Each person shares. The orientation of the partners goes from personal to joint. The reality, of course, is that sometimes we don’t feel it or remember it. According to one expert on the human mind, the way our memories are structured, we always are more aware of our own contributions and less aware of the contributions others make. Our own memories keep us falling short!

The Christian promise actually broadens this principle beyond marriage. In his letter to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul describes the whole church as the body of Christ. What would a church look like if we saw each other as being of the same body – that our needs and joys are shared – and that we cared for each other accordingly?

Second, there is forgiveness. Every Sunday we pray, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Forgiveness is not exclusive to Christians, but it is one of Jesus’ key teachings. And marriage is a great place to learn how to do it, and then get ongoing practice. But forgiveness is required in all our relationships. And learning to give up our rights when we’ve been hurt, to release them and to end the cycle of hurt, these are gifts of the Spirit and signs of God’s grace in a world so often bent on revenge and retribution.

Third, there is care for the vulnerable. Relationships in the kingdom of God are marked by respect, even for those who have little conventional power. Jesus calls the children to come to him, and he blesses and cares for him. This is something we’re called to imitate in the life of the kingdom, to regard with care and love those who might otherwise be overlooked or at a disadvantage.

Finally, there is the fact that all of our relationships rely on God. When we make marriage vows in a Christian wedding service, there is an acknowledgement that God’s covenant and God’s faithfulness under gird our own. In the same way, our fellowship in churches, in families, as neighbors, as friends, all rely on God’s grace. The huge gap between love and reality, must, ultimately, be filled by God.

This week, I did some work caring for my front lawn. As I recently learned, having a nice, healthy yard with lots of thick grass is the best way to prevent weeds. As it so happens, my yard right now has a lot more weeds than grass – clover, crabgrass, dandelions, something that looks like a houseplant, I don’t even know. The way to help the grass grow is by over-seeding. First you rake away the dead grass and grass clippings, cut the remaining grass down really short, and cast new seeds on the bare spots, where, if you water twice a day for two weeks, the seeds will sprout and grow, and crowd out the weeds. Ideally, this is done every year. We’ve been in the house three years and I’ve never done it before. I got about half a trash can full of stuff by raking the yard, and the yard is not that big. And big chunks and knots came out where the crabgrass gave way, so I put in some new dirt there, along with the new seeds.

What if our goal in our relationships were to encourage the good plants and crowd out the weeds? What if we were to sow encouragement and kindness, faithfulness and peace? Thankfully, we are alone in this journey. God walks with us, providing the light, sending the rain, raking away the dead grass in our hearts, and making room for the new seed so that when it lands, it will grow and flourish, leading us into that shining realm of God. Thanks be to God, Amen.

Wise Words

2009-09-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

Scriptures: James 3:1-12, Mark 8:27-38

Good morning. I realize it may be promising a lot to call my sermon “Wise Words.” With a title like that, you may be expecting actual wise words to come from me, personally, which is something I simply can’t guarantee. The very first words the reading from James has for us today is directed at teacher such as myself. It is a warning, I think, to stay humble, since the stakes are high. I’m hoping, though, that by talking about James’ own wise words, we’ll be able to receive a wise word from God for today. Will you pray with me?

Loving God, you give us wisdom, you give us love, you give us your creation, and you give us one another, made in your own likeness. Open our hearts to your Wise Word for us today, we pray, and may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all of our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

“Talk is cheap.” We’ve all heard that saying, right? And it goes right along with another saying: “Actions speak louder than words.” In our reading today, though, James thinks about it a different way. Talk can be very expensive. So much evil can be accomplished by one little wagging tongue! It’s like a flame that sets a blazing forest fire. Just get a rumor started and it burns out of control, beyond the reach of even the people who started it.

How many of us have ever blurted out something that we later regret? Wait, let me rephrase that: How many of us have NEVER blurted out something that we later regretted saying? Any hands? Of course not – that’s a common universal experience. As James puts it, “Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect, able to keep the whole body in check.” And, as another saying reminds us, “Nobody’s perfect.”

In James’ day, hardly anybody could read and write. The letter he wrote to the churches would have been read out loud to everybody in the church. So mostly, the way to get in trouble was with your tongue, not your pen. Before the internet, and still for many of us, there is the opportunity to say things in writing that we later regret. Of course, writing an angry letter takes some effort. You have to sit down and type it, or write it out by hand. Then put it in an envelope and address the envelope. Then you need to get a stamp and walk or drive to somewhere where you can put it in a post office box. Only after all that would you have the opportunity to start regretting what you’d said in your letter. Don’t get me wrong – it’s still possible to do, it just takes a little more time and effort than blurting something out in conversation.

These days, those of us who are wired up and plugged in have that many more opportunities for our unwise words to get out into the world to do their evil. And they have staying power, too! There’s Twitter and Facebook and Myspace and texting and plain old e-mail. All you have to do is click a button and your message is gone, never to return. I don’t know how many times I’ve answered an e-mail from someone, only to find that the next one I get from that person tells me to ignore the one I just answered. That’s an oops for both of us!

There’s great power in fast communication, but I think that if James were writing today, he would have to add texting thumbs or the computer mouse to his condemnations about the human tongue.

Because while James is talking about the tongue, we know of course that the problem is with our hearts, minds and souls, and that odd part of us that speaks something before the rest of us really has a chance to object.

To be honest, it’s possible to have the opposite problem, too, which is to not be able to say the things that really need to be said. As a Midwesterner with a tendency toward being quiet, I like it when James says these kinds of things, along the lines of listen quickly, but speak slowly. Maybe you’ve heard this saying: “God gave us two ears and one mouth, so use them accordingly.” James is worried about ways that flaming tongues can set fires of anger. But there are ways, too, that a silent tongue can kill by freezing.

So with all that in mind, it would really have to be a totally perfect person who could always say what needs to be said, never any more, never any less.

We see the difficulty of it in our Gospel story from today. Jesus knows what is coming for him. He takes the temperature of his disciples: “What are people saying about me?” he asks, “What are all those wagging tongues talking about?” That’s a pretty easy question – the disciples are clued in to the rumor mill – “Some say Elijah come back to life, some say John the Baptist – they know you’re important. Maybe a prophet.”

Then Jesus asks, “But who do you say that I am?” This is a harder question. This is where talk gets expensive. Peter answers first, which is typical – Peter is the type to rush in and then regret it later. But this time he gets it right. “You are the Messiah,” he says. And not only is he right, but he’s brave to say so.

In those days, Messiah was a political position. Peter was basically saying to Jesus, “You should be the king, not that slob who’s currently taking up space on the throne.” Something like that, anyway. Or maybe to modernize it a little bit, “Hey Jesus, you should run for President. I think you’d get the votes.” Of course in there is the added overtone that Jesus would get an endorsement from God as candidate.

Existing Messiahs of the time, like King Herod of Judah, or the emperor of Rome wouldn’t take kindly to this kind of treasonous talk, encouraging an upstart challenger to the throne. Peaceful transfers of power in those days were pretty rare. Usually you died in office, one way or another. So those Messiahs were watching their backs. Speaking out against them was a brave thing for Peter to do. That talk is not cheap. That talk is expensive.

But what Jesus means when he says “Messiah” is very different, in some ways, from what Peter and most people would have expected at the time. Because the next thing Jesus does is start teaching about how as the Messiah of this new kingdom of God, he’ll have to suffer and die. This is not something Messiahs normally do, to put it mildly. Peter pulls Jesus aside, blurting out, “Not you, sir! Surely not you!” “Get with the program,” Jesus answers, “Stop trying to tempt me onto the wrong path!”

The kingdom of God Jesus is describing, speaking into being, really, is marked by love and sacrifice, not by power and war, as Peter was expecting. Jesus is the leader, the head, the King, the Messiah, of that alternative kingdom, that new way of living, that new reality.

We are invited into the new world of God over and over again. We are invited to learn these strange wise words of that realm found here on earth. In God’s world, power and influence mean love and service. Being the greatest means being the least. Being wise means being like a child, open to every possibility.

James compares the tongue to a rudder on a ship; it is small, but it can turn us in a new direction. What we say matters. What we say not only comes out of our hearts and minds and souls, but also comes back to them and influences them. What we say can bring hope, clarity and encouragement. What we way helps us learn what we really believe about the world. What we say matters because we can shape ourselves and one another for the good. James reminds his readers that each of us is made in the image of God. You are the Messiah, Peter confesses. May we, too, learn the wise words of God that will help us speak into and live into being God’s beautiful, promised and present kingdom of love. Thanks be to God, Amen.

Life As a Saint

2009-08-02T17:35:00.001-07:00

You might be interested or might already know that Christians weren’t always called Christians. Jesus and the disciples would have been called Jews or Judeans, and the disciples in particular were just called that – disciples, students. Only later, as the movement got to be more distinct, and new people outside the Jewish tradition joined, did Christians get their name. So, when the apostle Paul was writing his letter to the people who have started a church in the town of Ephesus – the Ephesians – he doesn’t call them Christians, he simply calls them saints, or if you’d like to translate it a little differently, they are people who have been made holy by God.

In the time since Paul and the Ephesians, our faith tradition has acquired the name of Christian, and the idea of what a saint is has shifted, too. A saint is still someone whom God has made holy, but now we tend to think of people who have done amazing things in their lifetimes, and whose holiness extends even to miracles after their death.

But what if we went back to Paul’s way of talking about saints? What if all of us, the people of the church, are people God has made holy? What if we are saints, too? The reading from Ephesians this morning tells about life as a saint.

First, to be a saint is to be part of peaceful cooperation within a community of saints. “Lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called,” Paul admonishes. Practice humility, gentleness, patience, and peacemaking. Live together in unity, because as saints we are hoping together in one God, one Spirit, and one Lord. Work out differences with understanding, not self-righteousness, and be quick to see the other person’s side. Being a saint means being a part of a community of saints.

Second, to be a saint is to have particular gifts that are meant for the good of the community of saints. Paul names a few – apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers, whose job it is to, as he puts it, “equip the saints for the work of ministry.” In other words, some of the saints have gifts to help organize and encourage others, and all of the saints have gifts to do the work of ministry. Being a saint means contributing your gifts to ministry.

Finally, as a community of saints, Paul calls the church to be committed to truthfulness and maturity so that every part can work properly and we can become the body of Christ in active service to the world. Being a saint means being part of something bigger than we are – God’s vision for the world.

In the middle ages in Europe, townspeople gathered together to construct huge, beautiful cathedrals. But many of them took hundreds of years to build. Now we can go and see the finished product and marvel at the grandeur of these awe-inspiring houses of worship. But what was it like for the people who worked for years and years, just to lay a foundation? What was it like for the stonemason who spent his whole life on a wall or two? And yet as a community of saints, the Christians of that time built cathedrals. They were part of a vision that was larger than themselves.

The life of a saint that Paul describes is something like being a worker on one of those cathedral building sites. Being a saint means being part of a community of saints. Workers on a cathedral site need to be able to cooperate with each other. Good communication, patience, humility, and working for the same boss are all important things that help workers actually accomplish something together.

Being a saint means contributing your gifts to ministry. There are many different gifts and skills needed on a building site. Some people work well with stone, others can handle wood. Some people are good with designs and plans, others are strong and patient with hard work. Some are good at giving money, some are good at bringing water to thirsty workers. Building a cathedral requires many people and many gifts.

Being a saint means being part of something bigger than we are. What that something bigger is, in the case of building a cathedral, is pretty concrete. You’re building a giant church building. What Christians all over the world have been building for many years, with differing degrees of success, is a different kind of cathedral – a cathedral of people, relationships, and transformed lives, a structure of human beings living their lives in obedience to Jesus. Each person is both the worker and the materials for this cathedral, and together we build and shape one another with our practices of love, hospitality, justice and faithfulness. Together we are building the body of Christ. Together we are building the kingdom of God.

This morning in our Candle of Hope, I read a story about a town of saints – people God has made holy. They aren’t rich or strong by the world’s standards, but what they have, they give, without expectation of reward, and trusting, by God’s grace, that there will be enough. In our gospel lesson for today, Jesus gives them and us hope for enough, even in times of scarcity and insecurity. “I am the bread of life,” he says. “I am the manna God sent to the people of Israel, wandering in the desert, to make them a holy people.” God laid a foundation in Israel, in those forty years lived in trust that God would provide. Jesus now feeds us our daily bread – hope, comfort, fellowship – and today in our communion we remember and give thanks, trusting that there will be enough. Thanks be to God, Amen.

The Holy in the Familiar

2009-07-05T17:29:00.000-07:00

A year or so ago, I was in the BWI airport waiting to catch a plane with Heather. A man came up to us asking if we had seen his cell phone case. He was wearing converse sneakers, a pair of bright red jeans, a loose olive sport jacket, and a pencil-thin mustache. We hadn’t seen the case. He seemed anxious about finding it. As he walked away to get an airline employee to make an announcement, I realized that he looked a little familiar. In fact, he was dressed in kind of an arty way. I took me several more minutes to realize that we’d just seen native Baltimore movie director, John Waters. I’d seen him a few times on TV, but never before in person.

Please don’t think that I am trying to make a strong association between Jesus and John Waters, but I think there is a little parallel in our Scripture today with my experience at the airport. Being there at the airport made it harder for me to recognize John Waters than, say, being at the premiere of his newest movie. In the same way, the people from Jesus’ hometown are not expecting to see a hometown boy be the source of tremendous spiritual power, or great new gifts from God. They recognize Jesus as the guy they watched grow up, and who’s supposed to know his place. And that’s all they can see. They don’t recognize Jesus on a deeper level as someone capable of teaching them something new, and they don’t recognize that he may be something more than the person they thought they knew. They certainly don’t see him as the Messiah, the Son of God.

To be fair to these hometown folks, we should ask ourselves the question: if Jesus grew up in Morrell Park, and showed up at church to teach one Sunday, would we recognize him as Messiah? Can you imagine yourself saying, “Well, that’s nice, but it’s Jimmy’s kid, after all.” Or, “I knew her when she was a baby – she can’t teach me anything,” well, then you know where those townspeople of Nazareth are coming from. But on the other hand, what if you were able to see the holy in the familiar?

Seeing the holy in the familiar is a hard thing to do. The routine of our day-to-day lives can numb us to God’s presence. It’s easy to get comfortable with routine, and then to be upset by any changes in it. But it’s also easy to feel like, in the midst of repetitive work, that God is nowhere in sight. In the middle ages, there was a monk named Brother Lawrence. Brother Lawrence had managed to find the holy in the familiarity of his work. Life in a monastery was very routine. Prayers were said at certain hours, and the work of keeping things running – cooking, cleaning, tending to animals, caring for the crops, all had to be done day in and day out.

Brother Lawrence found a way to practice the presence of God in all he did. If he was baking bread, he made it into a prayer. If he was cleaning the kitchen floor, he made it into a prayer. After a while, his prayer times almost felt less prayerful than the times he was doing his work. Brother Lawrence found a way to see the holy in a familiar routine.

We can also lose sight of the holy in the familiar when we think that God will speak to us and care for us in miraculous and unexpected ways. Sometimes that happens, but many times God works through the people around us.

There’s a story about a man whose house is beset by floodwaters. As the water is just at his front door, his neighbor drives up in a big, sturdy pickup. He calls out, “Hurry, Jerry, get your things and let’s get out of here!” Jerry responds, “No, I have been praying about it and I am waiting for God to rescue me.” The neighbor tries to argue, but Jerry won’t budge, so he drives away.

A few hours later, Jerry is packed into his second floor because the floodwaters have risen 8 feet. A boat drives by and the national guard officer calls in the window, “Get in the boat, sir – let’s get out of here!” Jerry responds, “No, I’ve been praying about it and I’m waiting for God to rescue me.”

A few hours after that, Jerry is sitting on his roof with the water lapping at his feet. A helicopter flies over and a ladder descends. “Climb the ladder!” a voice calls from above. “No!” shouts Jerry, “I’m waiting for God to rescue me.”

A few hours later, Jerry is in the afterlife. He’s feeling upset so he goes to God. “God,” he says, “I prayed and prayed. Why didn’t you rescue me?”

God says, “I sent you a truck, a boat and a helicopter. What were you expecting?”

Finally, we can sometimes lose sight of the holy in one another. I’d like to close with a story that I first read in M. Scott Peck’s book called A Different Drum. I’ve modified it a little bit. It’s called the Gift of the Rabbi.

There was once a thriving monastery, but after many years of service it began to decline. By the early 1900’s, it was so diminished that only five monks were left in the crumbling main residence. This group included the abbot and four monks, all over 70 years old. Very clearly a dying order.

The abbot, tormented by the imminent demise of his order, decided to visit the nearby hermitage of an old rabbi and ask him whether he might have some advice on how the monastery could be saved. As the abbot was explaining the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only express his sympathy.

“I know how it is!” he cried out. “The spirit has left the people. It’s the same in my congregation. Almost no one comes to the synagogue any more.” And so the old abbot and the old rabbi cried on each other’s shoulders. Then they read passages out of the Torah and talked together on profound matters. The time came for the abbot to take his leave. They embraced each other. “It was wonderful after such a long time that we’ve come together again,” said the abbot, “but still, I haven’t achieved the aim of my visit. Is there nothing that you could say to me, no advice that you can give me, which could help me save my dying order?” “No, I’m sorry,” answered the rabbi. “I have no advice to give. The only thing that I can say is that the Messiah is one of you.”

When the abbot returned to the monastery the brothers circled all around him, clamoring: “Well, tell us, what did the rabbi say?”

“He couldn’t help me,” answered the abbot. “We just cried and read the Torah together. The only thing that he did say, though, just as I was about to leave – it was rather mysterious – was that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant by that.”

In the following days and weeks and months, the old monks brooded over this, and asked themselves whether the words of the rabbi could possibly have some kind of significance.

The Messiah is one of us? Could he have possibly meant one of us monks here in the monastery? If so, then which one of us could it be? Do you believe he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant one of us, then presumably the abbot. He’s been our spiritual leader for more than a generation.

On the other hand, he could also have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light.

Certainly he couldn’t have meant Brother Elred! Elred with his bad moods. But looked at more closely, even if he’s a thorn in the side for people, Elred is practically always right. Often quite right. Maybe the rabbi actually did mean Brother Elred!

But surely not Brother Philipp. Philipp is so passive, a real nobody. But, on the other hand, almost in magical fashion, he has the gift of always being there when you need him. He simply appears at your side, as if by a miracle. Maybe Philipp is the Messiah!

Of course, the rabbi didn’t mean me. In no way could he have meant me! I’m just a very ordinary person. But, assuming he meant me - assuming I’m the Messiah? Oh God, not me! I really couldn’t be so much for You, or could I? -

As they began reflecting in this manner, the old monks began to treat each another with extraordinary respect, just in case one of them really was the Messiah.
And for the most improbable case of all, that each one of the monks himself could be the Messiah, they also began to treat themselves with this same extraordinary respect.

The rare visitors to the monastery, began to sense this exceptional respect which had begun to surround the five old monks, and which seemed to have penetrated the entire atmosphere of their home. The place began to have something oddly magnetic about it. Indeed, it took on an almost irresistible quality.

And so it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that eventually novices began to ask for admittance, and that thanks to the rabbi’s gift the monastery awoke to a new and vibrant life.

Today in our communion, we have the chance to look for the holy in familiar elements of bread and juice. And we have to chance to look for the holy in each other and the people of our communities. May we seek God in the familiar, and may we find. Thanks be to God, Amen.

Born into the Kingdom

2009-06-07T17:24:00.000-07:00

Our Gospel lesson for this morning pivots on a single word, which in the Greek has two meanings. The Greek word is "anothen," which means both “from above,” and “again.” It’s like the word bow in English, which could mean “take a bow,” or “the bow of a ship” at the same time. It’s the context that helps you know what it means. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

Our story starts with Nicodemus, an important man – a teacher, a leader, an all-round well-respected guy, coming to Jesus at night, when people are less likely to notice. It’s not totally clear what he’s hoping for with this meeting – maybe to pick up a few tips on self-improvement, maybe to report back to his people about Jesus’ particular philosophical positions. He starts the conversation respectfully – Teacher, he says, we know you are the real thing – we can tell by the miracles you perform.

What Nicodemus gets, of course, (you know how Jesus is!) is something more than an intellection to-and-fro dialogue, or a set of five points for maximizing his personal potential. Instead, Jesus takes it way outside the realm of what Nicodemus was expecting. “Believe me, because it’s true,” he says, “No-one can see the kingdom of God without being born….” And here’s that word, “anothen.” When Jesus says anothen he means it both ways – being born again, AND being born from above. The new birth is from above – from God.

Nicodemus doesn’t get the pun Jesus is making though. And to be fair, who can blame him? So far, in the gospel of John’s telling of Jesus’ ministry, this idea of new birth or new life has not come up. In fact, the idea of the kingdom of God hasn’t come up in the gospel yet. The readers are learning about this for the first time, along with Nicodemus. So far, we’ve seen Jesus’ baptism, we’ve seen his miraculous changing of water into wine, and we’ve seen him clean out the temple of all its commercial activities. It’s clear from what he’s done so far that he’s a pretty important person to listen to, but it might not be totally clear just yet why he is important, or what his message is.

The kingdom of God is the message, but the way into it is a very strange and counter-intuitive one, especially for someone like Nicodemus who has some position, some power, some influence. Because the way into the kingdom for Nicodemus is, in a way, to humble himself, to become a child again, to start over, to be born all over again from above. Of course, if you’re already in the position of being humble and broken down, it’s a little easier to hear Jesus’ message of a new life, started over.

There’s something interesting to think about with the word “born,” too, which is that it’s not something we do for ourselves. Someone else bears us into the world – we are borne by our mothers. In the same way, entering the kingdom of God is something that God does. As Jesus puts it – you have to be born by water (that is, the regular way) and by the Spirit, to see the kingdom of God.

What does it mean to see the kingdom of God? Well, one traditional way of talking about the kingdom of God is as somewhere you go after you die. It’s God’s holy city, complete with clouds, St. Peter, angels and harps. That’s the picture you see in cartoons anyway. But Jesus was teaching about a kingdom of God that starts in this world. This new realm is spiritual, yes, but it’s also social – things like who we spend time with and eat with, it’s also political – how our leaders are expected to behave, and how each person is committed to service for one another’s’ good, and it’s also economic – what we receive belongs to God, and is due back to God as part of our way of life. In fact, to say the kingdom of God, in one way, is to say a way of life. It’s the way of life that as Christians we’ve been trying to live out – with varying degrees of success for about two thousand years now.

But Christ’s vision is still very much with us, and Jesus asks: what would the world be like if everyone lived according to God’s vision of peace and mutual care? But his vision is also one about seeing what is already there: Jesus asks: what would the world be like if everyone saw what God is already doing to bring about a reality of peace, beauty and love?

There’s another important way that we can talk about the kingdom of God, which is as the family of God. Just as in regular life, each of us is born into a family of some kind, being born again from above by the Spirit means being born into the family of God, with God as our adoptive parent. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, shares about the freedom and the beauty of living life as the children of God, born by God’s Spirit. He says, “you did not receive a spirit of slavery, to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father! It is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”

I realize that the phrase “children of God,” or “child of God,” can sometimes be used so many times that it starts to lose its meaning. But really it is a very radical statement. The word, “Abba,” which is closer to “Dad,” or “Papa” than “Father,” in English, shows a sense of familiarity and closeness between parent and child. If God is our parent, and adopts us into a new life, then we would hope to see the family resemblances as we grow up under God’s care and discipline. And really, it’s probably good to remember again that there are other ways an all-powerful being could treat its creations – as slaves, or playthings, or robots. But God regards us as beloved children.

Finally, the most important part of this metaphor about our relationship with God is the deep love it conveys. Sometimes you’ll hear parents say about their children, “It’s like my heart is on the outside of my body, walking around in the world.” If human beings feel this way, how much more does God, whose capacity for love is so much greater and purer than any human’s! As the gospel lesson puts it, “For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but may have eternal life.”

Finally, as children of God, one of our joyful tasks is to invite new friends into the family, to encourage new birth into the kingdom of God. How is this done? Through love.

There is a story about two men riding on a train many years ago. At first, one of the men is very slow to talk about himself, but it’s a long train ride, so after many hours, he tells the other man his story. This young man has been away from home for many years, and has gotten into some trouble with the law. He hasn’t had the chance to write home very much, and he doesn’t know how his family will feel about his homecoming, so he tells them in a letter to make a sign for him that he can see from the train. If they want him to come home, they should tie a white ribbon around the apple tree in front of the house, and he’ll get off the train and come home. But if they are ashamed, and rather he stay away, they should just leave the tree empty, and he’ll know to stay on the train and find somewhere else to make a life.

As they get close to where the family home is, the young man is so nervous that he asks his new friend to look for him. They round the corner, one man looking out for the other whose eyes are closed in fear and hopefulness. “It’s all right,” the older man says, “you can look.” The young man opens his eyes in relief, but relief turns to joy when he sees not just one ribbon in the apple tree, but the whole tree, white with ribbons, fluttering in the wind and welcoming him home.
May our welcome on God’s behalf be as warm and as strong. Thanks be to God, Amen.

Sustained by God's Love

2009-05-03T14:57:00.000-07:00

Rev. Amy Sens
May 3, 2009
Scriptures: John 10: 11-18, 1 John 3:16-24

Good morning, friends. Today we have the opportunity to reflect on Jesus as the Good Shepherd. In the United Church of Christ, we recognize our unity by agreeing together that Jesus Christ is the head of the church. Jesus is our leader and our organizer, our pastor and our guide through our life together as the gathered people of God. A very old metaphor for that leadership, dating even from the time of David in ancient Israel, is of the king and leader as shepherd of the people. I hope that today we will be able to reflect on what it means for Jesus to be our Good Shepherd. I’d like to begin with a sung prayer. If you know it, feel free to sing with me. Let us pray.

Open our Eyes, Lord

I have to admit at the outset that the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is one that gives me some trouble. First of all, none of us here, so far as I know, have a lot of direct personal experience with sheep and shepherding. I went to the Maryland State Fair a few years ago and watched the 4-H kids present their sheep for judging. I had no idea how loudly and frequently sheep do their bleating. And it sounds just a little bit human. It’s weird. The kids were maybe 10 or 12 years old, and their sheep had a tendency to get away from them. So if you want to control a sheep, you kind of grab it around under its mouth, and then it gets real still. One boy in particular tried to do this with his sheep, but it ignored him, and wandered around, barely under control. When one of the judges came over, though, to grab the sheep under its chin, it stopped dead in its tracks. The judge was clearly experienced in dealing with sheep.

So I think that if we were rural folks, living day to day with sheep, knowing how much it costs to buy a sheep, or when they have their lambs, just like we know where the nearest Farm Store or Wal Mart or grocery store is to our house, or how to use the telephone, then I think the metaphor of a Good Shepherd would make a lot more sense, and help us understand intuitively what God is saying to us through the gospel lesson today.

I also don’t like the idea of being called a sheep. As I mentioned, the sheep I saw at the state fair were obnoxiously loud, not very disciplined, and jumpy. Rumor has it that sheep are kind of stupid, too. For example, they can’t drink water out of a running stream, and they follow the herd whether or not the herd is going in a good direction. They go wandering off, they get lost, and they can’t defend themselves against wolves. I know it’s Jesus saying it, but it’s kind of a blow to the ego to be identified with a sheep, even if they are kind of cute.

Finally, the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, in my mind, somehow seems to go hand in hand with tame, nice, white Jesus. This is the Jesus who never gets angry, never starts a fight, is always polite, and would be a good person to bring home to meet your mother. This is the Jesus of the What Would Jesus Do? bracelets, since I’m guessing that the answer to that question – What Would Jesus Do? – for those wearing the bracelets, isn’t usually to upset authorities, confront hypocrisy, or call for the inclusion of outcasts in society. The truth is, though, that if you read the Bible, there’s a lot more to Jesus than being nice. Jesus wasn’t white, he wasn’t always polite, and sometimes he even got angry. In the gospels, Jesus is full of life, filling the pages with his wisdom and his wittiness, and his spirit of BOTH love AND challenge.

So I think when our metaphors about Jesus as the Good Shepherd obscure Jesus and tame him, making him into a kind of a blank wall of niceness, then there is a problem. Jesus is more than that, and we lose out if we forget that.

We can see some more of what it means for Jesus to be our Good Shepherd in this morning’s gospel lesson from John. First of all, Jesus is the Good Shepherd as distinguished from a hired hand. The shepherd is the one who owns the sheep. The shepherd has skin in the game. The guy they hire to watch the sheep, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same investment. “Hey, I just work here,” he says as he runs away, leaving the sheep vulnerable to the attacking wolf. It’s the difference between a homeowner and a tenant, a business owner and an employee, a parent and a babysitter. “I am the good shepherd,” Jesus says, “and you belong to me.”

Second, as the good shepherd, Jesus knows his sheep. I don’t know about you, but when I’ve driven past a field of cows beside a highway, I wouldn’t have the first clue about telling them apart. They all look the same to me. And yet, I could pick my cat Tuesday out of a crowd any day. If you have a pet, you know – they have their own personalities, habits, and moods. In the same way, we’re not just part of an indistinguishable mass for Jesus. Jesus knows each one of us – our personalities, our fears and weaknesses, our hopes, strengths and joys.

Third, as the good shepherd, Jesus lays down his life for his sheep. And I think this gets at the idea of nice Jesus versus real Jesus pretty clearly. In verse 18, Jesus says, “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again.” Jesus has power and strength to lay down his life for us, and to take it up again. Jesus is not tamed or cowed by the powers of the world. Instead, he is master of them and of us as well.

What does this mean for us today? Jesus as our Good Shepherd offers us both comfort and a challenge. In the epistle reading we heard from 1 John this morning, there is the comfort of knowing God’s tremendous love for us. It starts, “We know love by this, that Jesus laid down his life for us.” Jesus gave us everything – his ministry of teaching and healing, his message of the good news of the kingdom of God, and then in the end, his very life, his death, and his resurrection. This is the model of love for us.

And in our day to day lives, we continue to live sustained by God’s grace. God leads us into green pastures day after day in the food we eat, the friends and family we meet, in the rising sun and the falling rain. God calls us to still waters of rest and refreshment, and God walks with us through the dark and dangerous valleys of our lives.

At the same time, there is a challenge in the image of Jesus as the good shepherd. We are no longer our own – we belong to Jesus, and we’re called to follow where he leads. The full verse of 1 John goes on to say, “And we ought to lay down our lives for one another,” through the service and ministry God calls us to. This may feel like a tall order sometimes, to love not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And yet, even in this challenge, God is the source of our love. Love comes through us in response to God’s love. Like so much wool, from well-fed sheep, I suppose. It’s not like sheep sit around trying to grow out their wool: “Edna, I can feel it growing!” “Are you sure Angela?” “Yeah! I’ve been working really hard on my wool-growing exercises!” I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.

That’s fun to imagine, actually. Anyway, my point is that the key to learning to live in God’s love and learning to share it is to abide in the graciousness of God’s gifts to us. Even the gift of human love is, ultimately, from God, our Good Shepherd, our Maker, and our Guiding Spirit. We are sustained, now and always, by God’s grace. Thanks be to God, Amen.

Death Swallowed Up

2009-04-15T18:33:00.000-07:00

Easter Sunday, April 12, 2009
Rev. Amy Sens
Scripture: Mark 16:1-8

Good morning. Christ is Risen! Thanks be to God. Today, I’d like to take some time with you to think about what it was like for those women on that very first Easter, and to consider what it means for us. Jesus’ resurrection is a bold claim by God on all of our lives. It is a miracle and a sign of hope. It is good news! Will you pray with me?

Prayer:
God, in the resurrection of Jesus, you have overcome death. We don’t know how this mystery comes about, or even, sometimes, what to believe about it. Open our hearts, open our minds, and open our lives to the risen Christ. These things we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

The women who came to the tomb on that first Easter morning were not expecting a resurrection. They had been witnesses to Jesus’ bloody, brutal death on the cross. He had been their teacher and leader, and now he was dead. And as a final tribute to him, they planned to care for his body – to dress it and attend to it, and to apply burial ointments. They walk to the tomb where he has been buried, sad, mournful, and a little worried, “There is a big stone in the way of the tomb,” they say to each other. “Who will move it out of the way for us?” They are focused on the practical details. They are not expecting a resurrection.

Imagine you’re driving down a road you follow pretty often, maybe one that you take to get home, and you see signs of construction. There are orange diamond-shaped signs, there are workers with signs signaling “Slow,” or “Stop,” and there are traffic cones guiding you out of your usual lane. You would expect there to be some construction going on. All the clues point to it. What if, instead of construction, the road leads around a bend, and suddenly you’re at the edge of a cliff, looking out at the Grand Canyon? Would your first reaction be one of joy and celebration?

Death is one of the few constants in our lives. Loved ones and pets, dear friends and arch rivals, the famous and the insignificant, all of us, even we ourselves, will one day die. But in the resurrection of Jesus, God adds a big, fat, comma to the sentence where death used to be the period.

Everyone must die, (comma), but Jesus died and rose again.
Our lives must end, (comma) but Jesus promises eternal life
Death was the final answer, (comma), until God decided it wasn’t anymore.

The women coming to the tomb on that first Easter morning are expecting Jesus to stay dead. They are hoping to put a period at the end of his sentence. They are planning to honor what his life meant to them, and then to move on. So their first reaction is not joy and celebration. Their first reaction is surprise and fear. What can this possibly mean?

In the last two thousand years or so, we’ve had the chance to get over some of the surprise of Jesus’ resurrection. We’ve started learning to scale the majestic beauty of the canyons left behind when God swallowed death up. We’ve had a chance to reflect, and in some ways, to get used to the idea. But that question still sticks with us: What can this possibly mean? What can this mean for me and for my life? What can it mean for living a Christian life in response to the resurrection?

Death swallowed up leaves behind a big hole in the way things normally go. We can let go of fear. We can let go of our grudges and resentments. We can let go of the pressure to be perfect. The resurrection of Jesus changes everything.

I’ll close with a story. Once upon a time, there was a mining town where all the people dug deep under the ground to find what mattered most to them – veins of silver, sparkling jewels, iron and copper ore. But they worked so hard and so long that when they went underground it was dark, and when they came out of the ground it was dark. Even the children worked this way, scaling down deep tunnels, dimly lit, to claw and scrabble at the rock, hour after hour, day after day, year after year.

The people knew that there was sunlight during the day, and at night they breathed the freshness of the air. But they said to themselves, even as they thought of the daylight and the fresh air, “It is more important to fight the rock and find what we need, than to waste even a few moments in the sun. It cannot be so good, can it?” And they worked and worked. Then one day, a stranger came to the mining town. He looked like the mining town people, and he spoke like them, but he acted very differently. He came down into the mines to speak to the people, but then he would climb back out again, without any silver or jewels to carry away.

“What do you do without treasures?” the people asked him.

“The sun is my gold,” he said, “and the moon is my silver. Come with me and we can live in the light in freedom together.”

Most of the people thought this was foolishness, and went on working in the mines. “That freedom is death!” they said to one another, nodding in solemn agreement. But some of the young ones, and the tired ones, and the ones who didn’t have much of a stockpile to guard, these began to stay up above the ground with the stranger, even as the light was cresting the horizon with golden rays. And a few would leave their work early to catch the last gentle rays of the setting sun. The stranger would eat with them, simple meals, but ones he blessed with thanksgiving and joy. He would pray: “Today is enough for today, God, and we give you thanks.” The people were pale and tired from their work, but the sun warmed them, and the simple meals helped them feel strong.

One day the stranger was gone, and his new friends looked everywhere to try to find him, but he was nowhere to be found. To remember him, they began to eat their meals as he had, giving thanks for the beauty of sun and moon, and lifting their hands to God with joy. Together they ventured out further and further into the light, and their skin grew healthy and their tiredness melted away. And slowly, others began to join them and live the new life of freedom with them. Then one day, as they were eating together, they saw the stranger again. His joy was in the face of each person gathered around the table. And some of them felt as though they could hear his voice saying, “Today is enough for today, God, and we give you thanks.” And they were full of thanks, indeed. Alleluia, Amen.

The Path Jesus Walked

2009-04-15T18:31:00.000-07:00

Good Friday, April 10, 2009
Rev. Amy Sens
Tenebrae Service

The word tenebrae, which is the name for the service we are holding tonight, means shadows. And in the readings and hymns we’ll hear and sing, we remember the shadows that fell on Jesus’ path as he faced his death on the cross. Each candle, as it goes out, is a symbol of the burden Jesus carries growing heavier and heavier.

There are theologians who argue that Jesus’ death on the cross was not a way of appeasing God, or somehow satisfying a heavenly judgment. I am inclined to agree with them, even though I know that’s not the usual approach. God did not plan or cause Jesus’ death as a way of totaling up the heavenly accounting, to make the balance sheets come out right. Instead, Jesus’ sacrifice in death in the Gospels, is both something that must not be, and something that is necessary and unavoidable. By dying on the cross, Jesus becomes the final necessary sacrifice, and his sacrifice is only necessary because it is the only way to bring about the end of sacrifice.

There are plenty of people who have walked the path Jesus walked – whose lives were demanded of them for the sake of ideology and fear, for the peace and the comfort of the powerful. We can think of Martin Luther King, Jr., or Cesar Chavez, who were assassinated, for example. Or the hundreds of thousands and millions who lost their lives to brutal ideology and unscrupulous powers in the Holocaust, and in the genocides in Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia, Darfur.

In Guantanamo Bay today, there are 17 Chinese Muslims who have been held in detention for seven years. They cannot be returned to China, because they might be tortured there, but politically, they can’t live in the US, either. So they’ve lived in no-man’s land for seven years, in a prisoner’s camp halfway across the world from home, and have watched their lives drain away slowly. They are caught in the cogs of the state machinery.

Jesus wasn’t a triumphant war god, like the Romans’ Mars or like Caesar, whom they worshipped. He was powerless by the usual standards of wealth or political influence, and so when he inconvenienced the powers-that-be, it was very easy for them to catch him up in the cogs of the state machinery, and spit him out again like so much refuse on the horrifying, humiliating cross.

But the Romans didn’t crucify some lowly insurrectionist. They crucified God. And suddenly everything is in question. How could the greatest political power on earth be set against God’s own self? How is it even possible for God to be crucified? And what does that say about all the other people we’ve crucified?
Jesus’ death brings to light all the other cruel deaths suffered by poor and powerless people, and peels away the sheen of legitimacy that power can sometimes use to paint over brutality and killing.

Jesus walked the path he walked, not to please God, not as a way of paying God back for all our mistakes, but to turn our world inside out. Jesus came in love, proclaiming a new kingdom unlike any the world had ever seen, and it was too much. The path he walked led to his death. Tonight we remember that path and the shadows cast on it, and we are mourners, witnesses and culprits. The path Jesus walked brings into relief our own faults as people and as a community. Let us walk this holy path with fear and trembling, and let us trust Jesus to walk the lonesome valley with us. Amen.

A New Covenant

2009-04-15T18:23:00.000-07:00

Maundy Thursday, April 9, 2009
Rev. Amy Sens
Scriptures: Exodus 24:3-8, Mark 14:12-26

Every year at my job during this time of year, I interview bunches of people who are interested in being volunteers as their full-time job for a year, and then my coworkers and I decide together where each person we’ve let in should go – which jobs, which cities, across the country. So, yesterday, I found out about 12 of the 19 or 20 people who will be coming to my cities next year. It’s a very exciting moment, even though most of these people are just names on a page, or sometimes voices over the phone for me. I begin to wonder, based on the barest of biographical data, what they will be like. Will they be kind and generous, or hard to please? Will they be good workers, or cause trouble at their jobs? Will they get along in community, or will they make their housemates’ lives difficult?

It’s a very exciting moment, thinking ahead to the new year that starts in August. And yet, it contains within it the seeds of disappointment, because I know that some of my volunteers will not be easy to work with. Don't get me wrong - they're all really great, but they're human, too. They will have trials and disappointments, and disagree, and make trouble. That’s part of the deal. That's why I have a job in the first place. It's to be expected.

So it’s amazing to me to see how Jesus handles setting up a whole new way of life with his disciples in our gospel reading. This moment is a very dramatic one in the lives of Jesus and his disciples. They have come into Jerusalem, the big city, to bring Jesus’ big and wonderful message of the kingdom – the realm – of God. There has been success and excitement, yes, in the entry into Jerusalem, in Jesus’ intellectual sparring with the chief priests, the temple authorities, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the scholars, and other important people. And yet, there is danger in the air, too. Jesus, looking ahead, knows this is the last time he’ll be with his disciples, and what he chooses to do is to make a new covenant with them out of his own body and blood.

What Jesus’ covenant is modeled on, we hear in our story from Exodus, when Moses takes an animal and kills it to seal the people’s covenant with God. Moses presents the people with all the rules and regulations they are to obey, and they agree. “Everything that you have said, we will do,” they promise. It is a time of a new beginning, a new promise, and Moses will go with them to lead them into it.

And yet, when Jesus stands up to make a new covenant, he takes the place of the sacrificial animal, and he does it knowing full well that one of the very people he is eating with that night will be the one to betray him to that death. This is a new and bright beginning, but within it are the seeds of bitterness, suffering and death. A strange new covenant, indeed.

And yet, that is how God is with us. God doesn’t wait until we’re perfect to reach out to us and love us. God doesn’t wait until we have withstood every test, overcome every obstacle, and accomplished every lofty goal before being bound to us. Jesus covenants with Judas, even as he sits at the table, betrayal in his heart.

What I leave with in this story is that even though the new covenant Jesus begins on this night, bravely, with his own sweat and tears, with his own body, blood and soul, even though that covenant is already compromised, even before it is begun, in spite of all this, Jesus knows that God is at work and will bring about the new kingdom – the realm of God. “Truly,” Jesus declares, “truly I tell you, I will not drink the fruit of the vine again until I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Thanks be to God, Amen.

What You See And What You Get

2009-04-06T19:05:00.000-07:00

Palm Sunday, April 5, 2009
Scripture: Mark 11:1-11
Rev. Amy Sens

Good morning, friends. It’s a pleasure to celebrate Palm Sunday with you. This is one of the most interesting Sundays of the year – there are waving palm branches – very exotic – and we have a preview, too, of the most important week in the Christian calendar, when Jesus is arrested, questioned, crucified, and dies, but somehow by God’s grace and amazing power, Jesus comes back to life again. But that’s all next week, and you’ll have to come to the services to hear about it. Today we just get a preview, and yet somehow the whole story is wrapped up – foreshadowed, if you will – in the story of Jesus arriving in Jerusalem. I’d like to begin with a sung prayer. If you know it, please feel free to sing along. Let us pray.

Spirit of the Living God

There are a lot of strange things going on in our Gospel lesson this morning – the story Mark tells about Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem. As Mark tells the story, this is the first time Jesus has ever been to Jerusalem; he’s a country boy, after all, from the back woods of Galilee. Up until this point, Jesus has been teaching people about the realm of God, a kind of parallel reality that supports our own, that exists at the same time as our own, and that is actually the true and real reality God calls us to live in. The kingdom – the realm – of God is present all around us, and all we have to do is turn our lives in a new direction and trust in the good news about it.

That has been Jesus’ story all along, out in the countryside, and the time has come now for him to bring the good news into the big city. Jerusalem. For the people of Judea in that time, Jerusalem has a long and storied history. This was the city David chose, in the glory days, as the center of his kingdom. And his son Solomon built the first Temple to God there. When the people of Judah were captured by the Babylonians, it was the destruction of Jerusalem that symbolized their defeat. And when the walls of Jerusalem were restored, and the temple was rebuilt seventy years later, it was the symbol of God’s favor and blessing – returning them home to their holy city. Jerusalem is the center of the culture, politics, and religion of Judea, and Jesus is arriving there for the first time.

What Jesus does is a little strange. He asks a couple of disciples to go into the town ahead of them and borrow a colt that has never been ridden on before. Then, his disciples put their cloaks on the back of the colt, and Jesus gets on it to ride it into town. They form a procession, with people laying down cloaks and palm branches in front of Jesus, and waving more branches and shouting, “Save us! Save us!” (which is what “Hosanna” means) “Save us, oh son of David, bring us into your kingdom!” A big crowd forms, lots of people are watching and maybe getting into the act, and then it’s over. The procession was actually the big deal – Jesus goes into the temple, looks around a little bit, and goes back to Bethany to spend the night with friends.

What on earth does all this mean? There are some things it would be helpful to know looking at this text. First off, Jesus saw himself as being in the tradition of the ancient Judean prophets – people like Hosea and Ezekiel and Elijah. These guys had plenty of speeches to give – usually to call Israel back to faithfulness to God – but sometimes they used their actions to communicate more than just words can. Hosea married a prostitute. Ezekiel built a model of Jerusalem, complete with an iron pan as a siege wall. Elijah set up a contest between himself and the prophets of other gods to demonstrate the faithfulness of Yahweh.

Jesus, on his way into Jerusalem, was telling us about the kingdom – the realm – of God. On the other side of town, also making his way into Jerusalem for the Passover festival, the biggest festival of the year, was the Roman governor, Pilate, and you can bet that Pilate wasn’t riding on an unbroken colt. He would have had a tremendous war-horse, and be preceded and followed by impressive displays of power – war-elephants, maybe, and regiments of soldiers in their dress uniforms. Today, we might expect Pilate to arrive in a sleek, well-armored limousine, while Jesus rides in on a scooter, and a borrowed one, at that. And yet the fun and the joy of it is that the crowd greets Jesus as a king – paving his way with cloaks and palm branches, and shouting, “Hosanna!” What you see is Jesus in humble attire, and what you get is the arrival of a new kind of kingdom.

I think I know some of what is going on with Jesus – he’s poking fun at the authorities, who think that their power in this life is somehow the most permanent and most meaningful. And I think he’s also bringing hope to the regular people, saying that there is another way to live, and God is with you to help you see it and live it. What I wonder about is the crowd. Do his disciples get what is going on? Do they trust in God’s new realm the way Jesus does? Or are they hoping Jesus will be the one to kick the Romans out of Jerusalem and Judea? Do they know who Jesus really is? What kind of salvation are they hoping for? What do they think is going to happen when Jesus starts spreading his message in Jerusalem?

We know the rest of the story, of course. Jesus is both less and much, much more than the disciples could possibly have realized at the time. And the salvation they call for, shouting “Hosanna, Hosanna,” is not just for the people of Judea two thousand years ago. It is for all people, and it is for us.

Jesus didn’t have a lot in terms of material possessions. He borrows the colt he rides into Jerusalem on. His disciples are mostly country people with very little influence or pull. And yet, who do you think Jerusalem was buzzing about that next day? The Roman governor Pilate and his latest set of dress uniforms? Or Jesus, riding on a colt and inviting everyone into a new way of life with playfulness, but also with bravery and strength? Who are we still talking about now?

This week, we’ll walk at Jesus’ side and remember the journey he takes into overwhelming suffering and a shameful death. This is not the journey the disciples were expecting on Palm Sunday. But what we know now is that to hail Jesus as our Sovereign and our Savior is more right and true than the disciples could have ever known. Let us enter into his presence with fear and trembling. Let us enter his presence with joy and thanksgiving. Thanks be to God and Hosanna in the Highest. Amen.

A Meal in the Kingdom

2009-03-08T18:42:00.000-07:00

March 8, 2009 - Rev. Amy Sens

Scriptures: Exodus 12:1-17, Mark 8:31-38

Good morning, friends. It is good to be here with you this morning. This morning, I’d like to take some time to reflect on the meal, the sacrament, the ritual that we’re about to take part in together – the service of Holy Communion. Communion is a gift to us handed down from the very earliest Christians, handed down from Jesus. What we actually do is very simple, but the meanings and the symbolism are very rich. I know I’ll only be able to touch on a few things today, but I hope it will be enough to spark your own reflections as well. I’d like to begin with a sung prayer. If you know the song, feel free to sing with me. Let us pray.

Open our eyes, Lord

Jesus leaned back from the table. He and the disciples had been celebrating the Passover together, here in Jerusalem, remembering the escape into freedom by Moses and the Israelites. They had passed around flat, unleavened bread, a reminder of how the Israelites had eaten that night – in a hurry, with sandals on and bags packed, ready to escape into freedom. They had shared roasted lamb in memory of the roasted lamb the Israelites had eaten on that last night, the lamb whose blood painted on the doorways kept Israelite children safe from the plague God was sending, the lamb whose blood marked them as Israelite and not Egyptian. And they had eaten bitter herbs, a reminder of the bitterness of slavery in Egypt.

The Passover meal Jesus ate with his disciples was a meal reminding them of how, a thousand years before, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of Sarah, Rebekah, Leah and Rachel, had remembered the people of Israel, caught in slavery to the Egyptians, groaning under the weight of their oppression, their very existence threatened as the Egyptians tried to keep them from having sons. God remembered them, and staged a tremendous intervention, sending leaders – Moses and his brother Aaron – and plagues to convince the Egyptians to give up their power and their profits from the Israelites. And, once freed from slavery in Egypt, the Israelites lived in a new reality, one in which their allegiance belonged, not to a Pharoah, a human leader, but to God. They ate manna in the wilderness, and lived by trust in God.

All this, Jesus and his disciples remembered in their Passover Meal. And then Jesus added just one more thing. “Listen,” he said, “Tomorrow, I’m expecting trouble from the authorities. I’ve been teaching you about a peaceful kingdom, but what they’re hearing is war. I’ve been gathering the sick to heal them, but they see me gathering supporters for a violent revolution. I’ve been giving good news to the poor about God’s reign here on earth, but they’ve heard it as bad news for them. So, I’m expecting trouble tomorrow, and I don’t expect to make it out alive. And I want you to remember me whenever you eat together.

Look at this bread. It’s just regular bread. But now for you it will be my body when I’m not here. And when you eat it, I will be here. Thanks be to God! Look at this cup of wine. It’s just regular wine. But now for you, it will be my blood, my life which I’m giving up for you and for the sake of God’s kingdom on earth. Whenever you eat and drink, friends, remember me. I have tried to teach you about a new reality – about God’s reign here on earth – and I don’t want you to forget. Sometimes the world can look like just the regular world. But now for you it will be infused with God’s grace, God’s presence, and God’s beauty, just like the bread, just like the wine. Thanks be to God!”

Throughout his time in public ministry, Jesus taught about the kingdom of God. Sometimes we might think of this kingdom of God as being in heaven – something we don’t get to until after death. But what Jesus is talking about, this reign of God, is something that he saw the beginnings of here on earth. “The kingdom of God,” he teaches, “is like yeast that a woman hides in a bag of flour. It’s very small, but it makes loaves upon loaves of bread rise.” “The kingdom of God,” he teaches, “is like a mustard seed. It’s very small, but it grows into a tremendous, flavorful bush that the birds themselves rest in.”

And today, in our gospel reading, we get a taste of what that realm of God will look like, based on what Jesus, its anointed King – its Messiah – says and does. He has just asked the disciples who they say he is, and Peter gets it. “You are the Messiah,” he says. And then Jesus starts teaching that this will mean his suffering, death, and resurrection. Peter gets very upset, because to him Messiah means the guy in charge, the guy who gets waited on, who makes the important decisions, who commands the army, and, incidentally, whose friends get influential political appointments as well. But as soon as Jesus admits to being the Messiah, he gets it all wrong about what it means to BE the Messiah. “Not you, Lord, surely!” Peter rebukes. “Get in line, you tempter!” Jesus answers back. “You are thinking about human things, not divine things. You don’t have your eyes on what God is doing in the world now.”

In the United Church of Christ, we talk about communion as a symbol and as a sacrament. It’s a symbol in the sense that we recognize that the bread doesn’t literally become Jesus’ body, the wine is not somehow changed into blood, while still physically having the properties of wine. But at the same time, communion is one of our two sacraments, which is to say, we recognize that God is present in it in a special way. This is a place where we meet God, not just in our minds or our spirits, but physically, with the taste of the wafers on our tongues, and the wine in our mouths. Through communion, God feeds us a meal in the new world God is creating. This is a meal in the Kingdom of God.

Because of that, this is a meal that reminds us of what the realm of God is about. It is a meal that brings healing and forgiveness, as Jesus brought healing and forgiveness. It is a meal that brings a radical equality – people from all stations of life, men and women, young and old, powerful and weak: all are welcome at the table. This is a meal in which we remember that Jesus was our leader and our teacher, and he lived that out, not by taking advantage of his powerful position, but by serving his disciples, stooping to wash their feet, and stretching out his arms to conquer sin and death.

This is the meal we eat today, a gift from God to the people of God, thanks be to God. It is a meal that creates a new community – a new communion – connecting us to people all around the world, from the past up to the present and into the future, through Jesus. And it is this community, the church universal, created by God, that works together, first to see and then to encourage, the growth and indwelling of God’s holy and beautiful realm on earth.

There is another name for communion, which is Eucharist, and which means giving thanks. Let us give thanks today and every day for God’s gift to us in Jesus, and God’s vision for us which we remember in this meal eaten in the Kingdom of God.

Sermon 02/15/09 (1 Corinthians 9:16-23)

2009-02-15T18:26:00.000-08:00

“Fond Farewells”
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 15 February, 2009
Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
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When I came to St. Mark’s two and a half years ago I thought I might be a hospice worker. One of my roles as your “Transitional Minister” was to help you discern where God was leading this little church. I thought, when I started here, that my role might be to help you die as peacefully as possible. If a congregation can suffer from depression, this congregation suffered from it. That first Christmas Eve several people were in tears, sure that it would be our last.

These were valid fears. Our bank account was going through its own “recession” back then, and the pews were pretty empty. We were doing some good ministry -- the 12-step groups, the Wellness Center -- but our big church building was empty a lot of the time. We were kind of a shell.

Two years later, that shell is full and bursting with energy. Our bank account is in better shape, our pews have more people in them on Sunday mornings, and I can hardly keep track of everything that goes on here during the week. I think every room in the church is either being used regularly or has definite plans for the near future. I cannot emphasis enough how proud I am of the transformation that has taken place at St. Mark’s. I don’t care if I’m starting to sound like a broken record. (It’s my last Sunday anyway, so you won’t have to hear it again.) I am proud of this church and I’m not afraid to say it.

What happened so drastically in these two years? Some of you have kindly attributed the change to my presence here, but I honestly don’t think that’s it and I think it’s dangerous to think that. If a pastor is the reason for a church’s success, then why bother going to church if that pastor leaves? I think we all know that doesn’t make sense.

On the contrary, I believe the reason St. Mark’s has come to this point of healing has more to do with the determination of its members to proclaim the gospel. I think that somewhere along the line this congregation made the decision that they didn’t want to die -- and so they did everything in their power to keep on living. That power blissfully includes the grace of God, and God was surely with us during this time, lighting a fire in us and giving us the strength to go on.

It is this same power, and this same call, which will remain with us as we go our separate ways. It is my fervent hope that you will keep coming around here not just because you love the people who are here but because you feel called to proclaim the Gospel. The Apostle Paul describes himself as “enslaved” to the Gospel, and while I don’t care for the language of slavery, I get his point. On the one hand, we have a choice whether or not to accept the call of discipleship. I am grateful that so many members of this congregation did just that, and got to work when St. Mark’s needed it most. On the other hand, once we accept that call we are tied to it in a way that is difficult to escape. Once we begin proclaiming the gospel it’s hard to stop doing it -- and that’s a good thing.

So, what does it mean to “proclaim the Gospel”? How have we been proclaiming the Gospel together here at St. Mark’s? When Paul uses the phrase, he is speaking literally of preaching to people who are not yet followers of Christ and inviting them to join the church. We have done some of that here. Our membership has expanded, and we work hard to welcome visitors who come through our doors. Maybe we even invite friends to join us on Sunday mornings. But “proclaiming the Gospel” goes beyond Sunday morning. We “proclaim the Gospel” whenever we open our church to people in the community -- and we do that a lot around here. And we “proclaim the Gospel” individually whenever we “act as Christ to neighbor” -- when we love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

I don’t see any reason why that can’t continue after I leave. I would be devastated if it didn’t. You are enslaved to the Gospel -- you must continue to proclaim it, realizing that God will uphold you when you have a difficult time. I, too, am enslaved to the Gospel -- the good news of Christ -- and that is part of the reason I am leaving you now. God is calling me in another direction, and while I love you dearly I am compelled to follow where God leads me. Right now, it seems, God is leading me to Minnesota.

Separations like this are difficult. I have, in some ways, tried to be “all things to all people” here, in that I have had a wide variety of experiences within this little congregation. I am eternally grateful for what I have experienced here and for the kindness and love you have shown me. But my first responsibility is to God, as is yours. Just as God is calling me to new adventures in a new place, so God is calling this congregation to new adventures right here. This does not necessarily mean that God will never call you away from here. But if you ever leave this church I pray it will be because God is calling you, and not because you become lazy or complacent, or even because you have a conflict with someone in the congregation. It is easy to do that. Pastors run away nearly as often as church members do. But if we -- pastors and parishioners alike -- are to be true followers of Christ then we will go where God leads us and stay when God wants us to stay somewhere.

I pray that I am making the right decision as I leave you. I pray that you will make the right decisions in where you choose to worship. And I pray most deeply that this church will continue to thrive as I have seen it do. I pray that St. Mark’s will continue to be a blessing to the community of Morrell Park, to one another, and to the world.

Now let us pray as one.

Sermon 02/08/09 (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

2009-02-08T15:02:00.000-08:00

“Keep Your Eye on the Prize”
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 8 February, 2009
Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
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How many of you watched the Super Bowl last Sunday? I actually watched the game, and there were actually parts of it that I enjoyed. (Not just the ads either.) I wanted the Cardinals to win, of course (out of loyalty to the Ravens), and it was thrilling when they got ahead in the game. As disappointed as I was that they lost, the end of the game was exciting, and I have to give props to the Steelers. They played a good game.

It’s thrilling to watch good athletes do what they do best. Professional athletes have amazing skill, and we can be in awe of the hard work they have done to get where they are. The amount of exercising, self-control, and concentration it takes to become a professional athlete is awesome. I think this is why people were so disappointed when Michael Phelps made his recent gaffe. We revere our athletes as examples for the rest of us, and it was hard for a lot of people to admit that Michael Phelps is actually human and could do the same stupid things any normal 23-year-old might do. “He’s the winner of 8 Olympic medals! How can he be human?!” we wonder.

Reverence for athletes is not just a modern phenomenon. The original Olympic games began in Greece in 776 B.C.E. -- hundreds of years before Christ was born! Those games included foot races, chariot races, boxing, and wrestling, and typical prizes were olive wreaths, palm branches, or woolen ribbons. (No million-dollar endorsements in those days.)

In our Epistle reading for this morning, the Apostle Paul mentions two athletic sports, running and boxing. It appears here that Paul had an appreciation for sports and that he may have done some running and boxing of his own. He is at least aware of the dedication it takes to be a serious athlete. ...So, why does he bring up sports? What do sports have to do with the Gospel? The same “self-control that athletes exercise in all things” is a necessary component of being a good Christian. He’s essentially telling his listeners to behave themselves, so they can win the race. But here is where the self-control of an athlete and the dedication of a Christian part ways. What does an athlete get if he or she practices that self-control and wins the race? He or she gets something that won’t last -- in Paul’s day, a piece of greenery, in our day, money in the bank. What did Santonio Holmes get for winning the Super Bowl? He got a fancy Super Bowl ring, a trophy, a bunch of money, the admiration of his peers and millions of fans. What did Michael Phelps get for winning so many swim races at the Olympics? He got a bunch of gold medals, millions of dollars in endorsements, and the honor of having girls scream and faint from excitement when they see him.

These seem like pretty great rewards. The Pittsburgh Steelers are the envy of everyone in the NFL because of that trophy and those rings. Other professional athletes are in awe of Michael Phelps. The screaming fans that come when one wins the game (or keeps on winning) are a thrill. And, boy, those millions of dollars sure would be nice to have in an economy like ours. I think this is one of the reasons we look up to our sports idols so much -- they have things we want, like money, and fans, and dedication, and plain old human ability. But here’s the thing. As great as all those rewards are -- the money, the fans, the trophies -- they can’t top off the reward that we are waiting for as Christians. Paul points out that if we live as Christians successfully we will get a permanent reward: eternal salvation.

We have more incentive to practice self-control than any athlete. Granted, it is the grace of God that will get us into Heaven and not anything that we do here on earth, good or bad. But by practicing self-control we will be pleasing God. Now, in what ways should we control ourselves? How will we go about “winning” this race? Our reading for this morning doesn’t give specifics -- it’s a tiny piece of a larger scripture that contains more details. Throughout his letter to the Corinthians Paul warns against being jealous of one another, or fighting. He talks about the importance of being trustworthy. He warns against being arrogant and boastful. He talks about sexual immorality (do not commit adultery). He goes off on “thieves, the greedy, drunkards, revilers, robbers.” It sounds like we have to follow a whole bunch of rules when you list everything that Paul includes in his “good and bad behavior.” But basically, in the words of Jesus, he is telling us to love the Lord our God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind and love our neighbors as ourselves.

God loves us, even though we are not perfect. (Yes, God even loves people who make mistakes, like Michael Phelps.) But when we practice self-control and work hard at being a Christian, our rewards are endless. We will have the satisfaction of knowing that we are pleasing God and loving our neighbor, and we will have the rewards of eternal salvation.

In a few weeks we will baptize two young people into the faith and family of the Christian church. Miranda and Michael, I hope you have been listening. Basically I’m telling you that being a Christian is a big deal and an important responsibility. I don’t just sprinkle a few drops of water on your forehead and send you on your way. You are being welcomed into the church, and that means that from now on you are being asked to act like a Christian. This means that you love one another and treat other people the same way that you would like them to treat you (no matter who they are, and whether they are Christian or not). It also means that you are part of a new family, and that we will help you when you make mistakes or when you have a hard time. This is part of what it means to be a Christian too.

Whether you are brand new to this church, like Miranda and Michael, or whether you have been here a very long time, I hope you will continue to learn what it means to be a Christian and that you won’t do it just for the big reward you get at the end.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 02/01/09 (1 Corinthians 8:1-13)

2009-02-04T09:38:00.000-08:00

“Puffy Knowledge”
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 1 February, 2009
Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
----
When I worked as a chaplain, my favorite term was “myocardial infarction.” It was just fun to say. Myocardial infarction. Does anyone here know what it means? ... Well, as fun a term as it is to say, “myocardial infarction” means something very serious. It’s a medical term for heart attack. I would likely not have known this if I had not worked in a hospital for a year. ...Some medical professionals have a habit of tossing around big words when talking to their patients or patients’ family members, and I could have been told that a loved one of mine had just had an “M.I.” (myocardial infarction) and not had the slightest clue what they meant.

I used to love playing with toy cars when I was a little girl. My dad and I would take my Matchbox cars on long “trips” through the family room, and I would spend hours “vrooming” them around the house. I even got to the semi-finals in a Matchbox car race in my sixth grade science class. But aside from checking fluid levels and changing a flat tire, I know very little about what’s beneath the hood of a real car. I dread going to the repair shop with a problem I don’t understand, because some mechanics are notorious for talking over people’s heads -- and a few unscrupulous ones especially enjoy telling women they need unnecessary repairs.

Of course, we do this in the church too -- use big words, talk over people’s heads, show off our vast knowledge at the expense of people who are new to the game. There are the theologians (a theologian is someone who studies God, by the way) who revel in writing sentences that last for two pages and using the biggest words possible. My favorite church word is “pneumatology” -- study of the Holy Spirit. It’s another one of those fun words to say. ...Hmmm...I wonder if someone could have a pneumatological myocardial infarction. That would be, I guess, a “spiritual heart attack”? Anyway, we theologians have our share of big words. I’ve even known some preachers to pepper their sermons with enormous words, probably enjoying the fact that most of the people in the congregation have no idea what they’re talking about. I have read some sermons from the 19th century that make no sense at all, and I don’t think this is only because the preacher is using the language of an earlier era.

Well, preachers (and medical professionals, and auto mechanics) who do this are not following the Apostle Paul’s instructions from this morning’s Epistle reading. (Epistle, by the way, simply means “letter.” We call 1 Corinthians an “Epistle reading” because we are reading the letter that Paul wrote to the church in the town of Corinth.) “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up,” he says.

The community at Corinth was clearly having some issues, between people who have been following Christ for a while (and therefore sort of know the ropes) and new believers. I share with you an explanation of this text by Rev. Sarah Buteux:

“Back in first- century Corinth, religions abounded, and a traditional rite of most faiths involved the sacrifice of animals and other foods to the various gods and goddesses. But food sacrificed to idols was still food that could be eaten. Rules varied, and most likely the person who offered the sacrifice at a temple would not partake of the food, but after the rite, the officials of the temple might eat it –for in most traditions, including the Israelite one, the food offered to God was the food the priests lived on – but that food could also be sold in the general market to raise money to support the temple itself.

Now apparently, there were people in this young community who believed that food sacrificed to an idol was defiled and should not be touched. But Paul argues that idols cannot defile food, because idols represent gods that do not exist. There is only one God in Paul’s mind, and that is the Lord. Therefore this food that is being sacrificed to idols is really food being sacrificed to nothing.”1 [End quote]

So, Paul thinks the food can be eaten like any other food. No spiritual problems will take place if one has eaten food that has been offered to imaginary idols. But Paul stresses that just because he (and the other enlightened Christians) know that it’s not a big deal to eat this food doesn’t mean the new folks will know. In Rev. Buteux’s words, “They would be confused. They would feel conflict that could become damaging to their faith.”2 Therefore, they should just not eat the food. They will save the new Christians from unnecessary confusion. What they know is not nearly as important as the spiritual wellbeing of their neighbor. Loving the neighbor is more important than knowing the truth.

What are some ways that we can follow Paul’s guidance today? Are there any ways in which we use our knowledge against our neighbor? I can think of some easy examples that don’t even involve the use of big words.

Those of us who have been coming to St. Mark’s for a while know exactly what to expect. We know what to do when we arrive. We take a bulletin (and we know what a bulletin is) from the greeter. Then we go sit down. We know what the different segments are in the bulletin. We know the right words to say and when to say them. But when a visitor comes to St. Mark’s for the first time they might not know all these things. I didn’t know what the “Candle of Hope” was when I came here for the first time. It took me a while to figure out what you really meant by that. When I saw “Lord’s Prayer” written in the bulletin, I knew what that was but I didn’t know what words to use. Should I say “trespasses,” “debts” or “sins”? I knew the rest of the words, so I was just quiet during that part of the prayer, but what if I had never been to any church before? What’s the “Lord’s Prayer”? What’s a “Call to Worship”? What about a “Benediction”? What does it mean to “Offer one another the peace of Christ”?

We become complacent in the way we do worship and in our lack of explanation, because we usually have the same group of people here every Sunday. We might have a visitor or two or three, but we figure that they will be able to follow along. After all, we know what’s going on, don’t we?! In the context of Paul, we eat food sacrificed to idols because we know it’s okay to do so -- since idols aren’t real. But the people who come here for the first time are confused, wondering what we are doing and why we are doing it.

Most churches do this. We don’t bother to explain what the worship service will be like every Sunday, because we figure people already know. But there have been times when I, who have been attending churches since the age of 3, have no clue what is going on in a church that I visit. I find it so helpful if someone is assigned to help me, the visitor, with any question I might have, or if there is some explanations written down somewhere, or, preferably both (since, as a visitor, I might not be able to read or even to see). By doing this, the church would be showing the visitor that it was more important to show love to the visitor than it was to avoid being redundant by explaining things at the beginning of church every Sunday.

I encourage St. Mark’s to give some more thought to how we welcome newcomers who enter through the door. Do we wow them with our amazing knowledge of how the church works...or do we reach out to them in love, as Christ -- and the Apostle Paul -- have taught us to do?

Think about it. Now let us pray.

---

1 “Knowledge vs. Love,” sermon by Rev. Sarah Buteaux for Sunday, February 2, 2003. Cambridge Swedenborg Chapel, 50 Quincy Street, Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138 U.S.A. Accessed via http://www.swedenborgchapel.org/read_sa_sb2003_5.html on 31 Jan., 2009.
2 Ibid.

Sermon 01/25/09 (Mark 1:14-20)

2009-02-04T09:35:00.000-08:00

“The Hard Call”
Mark 1:14-20
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 25 January, 2009
Third Sunday after Epiphany
----
How many of you watched the presidential inauguration this past Tuesday? Nearly two million people gathered on the National Mall in Washington and millions more watched it on television or listened to it on the radio. It was the most-watched presidential inauguration in American history, and there seemed to be a special spirit among those watching it. People greeted each other with hugs and broke out into song together, even if they had never met before.

One newscaster described it as “a family reunion” for the United States, where everyone gets together to celebrate and get to know each other again. For me, it felt a lot like church. Perfect strangers greeting each other as though they were old friends, singing together, celebrating together. A sense that we were renewing ourselves for the hard work ahead. ...Don’t we do that sort of thing in church every Sunday?

Then there was President Obama’s inauguration address, which was very sermon-like. As I read this morning’s Gospel lesson, I realized that Obama could have been preaching a sermon on Jesus’ words. His inaugural address was a national call for repentance and a call to serve.

The words we hear from Jesus this morning can be divided into two parts, as can Obama’s speech. The first part is the call to repentance. Jesus tells his listeners that “the time is fulfilled” and that they must “repent and believe in the good news.” President Obama tells us that “the time has come” and calls for repentance: “On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas that for far too long have strangled our politics.”1 He goes on to talk about how we must turn away from greed, irresponsibility, and childish ways.

The second part of our Gospel reading, and Obama’s address, is a call to discipleship and service. Jesus approaches some fishermen near the Sea of Galilee and tells them “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” We are told that immediately they dropped what they were doing and followed him and we understand this as Jesus calling his disciples.
In a similar way, President Obama calls the American people to serve: “Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.”2 He goes on to talk about the hard work we will do together to make our country great again.

It’s probably no accident that Obama’s speech sounds like a sermon. He is an avowed Christian (he belonged to a United Church of Christ congregation for twenty years) and a former community organizer with a passion for service. His background showed through his address. I suspect that his speechwriters have church backgrounds too.

I was inspired by the speech on Tuesday and felt like the whole celebration was an enormous, worldly church service. But it was not church. It was a secular celebration and the president’s inaugural address was not a sermon. I can liken Obama’s call to hard work to Jesus’ call to discipleship, but Obama’s speech was not directly based on Jesus’ words, nor was he calling the American people to Christian discipleship or service.

So, how do the two differ? How do we differentiate the work we are called to do as Christians from the work that a politician calls us to do as citizens? How we distinguish between the community service we do as citizens and the service we do as Christians? Both may involve working in soup kitchens (maybe even the same soup kitchen). Both involve coming together as a human community. But the work we do as citizens differs from the work we do as Christians primarily because we do it for different reasons.

When the President of the United States (or some other secular leader) calls us to work together, they are calling upon us to believe in the common good: the nation, or the city, or Planet Earth. We are working together to uphold ideals that people of any faith can have. We are serving our fellow human beings because we, too, are human. But when we respond to Jesus’ call to discipleship -- when we drop what we are doing and follow him -- we are doing so because we believe that Jesus is the Lord of our life. We are serving humankind because we believe that God created humankind in God’s own image. We are doing this hard work because we believe the truth of the Gospel.

These two reasons for service and hard work are not mutually exclusive. As a Christian, when President Obama serves his fellow human beings he is undoubtedly doing so, in part, because of Jesus’ call to discipleship. So, too, can we engage in community service both because we believe in the ideals of a nation and because we believe in the truth of the Gospel. But as Christians our first priority should be to Christ. This may mean we have to make difficult choices. The fishermen Jesus approached by the Sea of Galilee were going about their business, catching fish and making themselves a meager living. But they dropped all of that in order to follow Christ. Their decision cannot have been an easy one. We, too, are compelled to listen for that call, and it may mean that we will be called away from the good work we do in our every day lives. God may be calling us to new and challenging things -- things that we never would have imagined doing. Our job right now is to listen for that call. What is Christ calling you to do? What changes will you need to make in your life so that you can respond?

As President Obama said in his address, we are in the midst of difficult times. It would seem that now is the time to buckle down and work hard at whatever we are doing. But God may be calling us to new work. We must never become too busy with our “hard work” that we stop listening for the voice of God and the call of Christ. We must embrace the challenges that we currently face, but we must do so with our eyes and ears always open to respond to the new challenges to which we are called. Is Christ calling you to something new? Watch, listen, think, and pray.

Now let us pray.

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1 “Transcript - Barack Obama’s Inaugural Address.” 20 Jan., 2009. The New York Times. 24 Jan., 2009 .
2 Ibid.

Sermon 01/18/09 (John 1:43-51)

2009-01-26T18:00:00.000-08:00

“That Trash from Nazareth”
John 1:43-51
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 18 January, 2009
Second Sunday after Epiphany
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I have four things coming together for me this week. Tomorrow our nation will commemorate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. On Tuesday we will inaugurate our first African-American president. I have been reading about American slavery in John Michener’s book Chesapeake. And this morning our gospel lesson tells us that one of Jesus’ potential disciples had a hard time trusting anyone from Nazareth.

Let’s deal with the thing about Jesus first. Jesus had just begun his ministry and was in the first stages of gathering disciples. It seems Philip was already on board -- he already believed that Jesus was someone really special and was beginning to tell other people about him. So, Philip approached Nathanael to spread the news. We’re not told here who Nathanael is, only that Philip finds him and tells him about Jesus. “Look, Nathanael, we found the guy about whom the prophets wrote, Jesus, son of Joseph in Nazareth!”

Nathanael, however, is not impressed. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Can anything good come out of that hick town? If he’s truly what you say he is -- really great and all that -- shouldn’t he come out of some real place...like Jerusalem?!” Nathanael’s prejudice is sort of like a snobbish celebrity wondering how anything good can come out of, say, North Dakota. All the good stuff’s in New York City or Los Angeles. But here we have it: something good did come out of that hick town, Nazareth. God works in surprising ways, and Jesus is proof of that.

I am reminded of God’s surprising works this morning as our nation prepares to welcome its first African-American president the day after Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Just a few short decades ago -- well within some of your lifetimes -- African Americans were relegated to the very bottom rungs of society. They -- and it was always “they” because “they” were so different from “us” -- could not drink from the same water fountains. I think of this when I grab a sip to drink at Lexington Market. They could not sit at the front of the bus. I think of this when I choose a seat at the back of the bus. They were relegated to innumerable other humiliations that I, as a young white person, cannot imagine. And these humiliations were viewed (by many whites, at least) simply as the cost of freedom. I am currently reading about the 19th century practice of slavery in the United States -- in Maryland, in fact -- and I realize that Jim Crow laws were nothing compared to the indignities and horrors endured by slaves. It boggles my mind that human beings were considered the property of other human beings. They were chained and whipped and raped and killed, and while not all of this abuse was technically legal the authorities would look the other way if it was punishment for a slave’s “misbehavior.”

This was really not that long ago. I read a new story recently about a woman who is 114 years old. Her parents were former slaves, and yet she herself had the opportunity to vote for an African American for president. In her case, she is only one generation removed from slavery. Granted, she is very, very old -- one of the oldest people in the world -- but it still shocks me that the child of former slaves could have the opportunity to vote for an African American president. I cannot begin to imagine what went through her mind as she cast that vote.

Just a few decades ago many people would have said, “Can an African American really be president?” (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”) Sadly, there are still people who doubt that a person of color can hold that position, regardless of politics. There is still a great deal of racism in this country, and I’ve seen it in the city of Baltimore. But the majority of American citizens voted their confidence that color does not matter in the White House. And I have hope that a majority of people who did not vote for Barack Obama cast their vote because they did not like his politics, not because they cared about the color of his skin. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., I am willing to hope that Barack Obama was not “judged by the color of [his] skin but by the content of [his] character.”

Something surprising is happening in our nation this week. The American people -- black and white and every color in between -- are rallying behind an African American and upholding him as the leader of our nation. I have heard people say that they did not vote for him because they never vote for a Democrat, but that they are excited nonetheless at this historic moment. I have heard more expressions of hope about this presidency than I have heard in a long time. It really does seem like our nation is coming together for this, across party lines, across political beliefs.

Something good did come out of Nazareth, and a surprising thing is happening here too. People of all colors, from all backgrounds, with all beliefs, are celebrating an historic moment in our nation’s history: the inauguration of our first African American president.

I have made some comparisons here between Jesus’ ministry in Nazareth and Barack Obama’s election as the first black president of the United States, but I want to be careful not to compare them too closely. Barack Obama is not Jesus by any means. He is not perfect, he is not a messiah, and I pray to God that he will not be a martyr. His election as an African American is not the same as Jesus coming out of that country bumpkin town of Nazareth either. It really shouldn’t be surprising that America voted for an African American. What should be surprising (and sad) is that is took so darn long.

These are important points to make in a nation that has a history of lifting its leaders to Christ-like status. There are those who said that President Bush was “ordained by God” to be our president. The role of president of the United States has been and always should be a secular role, and saying that a president is “ordained by God” is dangerous. While I believe that God guides all people who believe in God, including the president, I do not believe that God says, “Here. This person must be the next president or else.”

In recent history there have also been those who have believed the president of the United States to be infallible -- completely perfect. We do a disservice to our country when we assume that our leader is perfect. It is fine to expect him to be better than the rest of us, but President Obama will make mistakes, just as every president before him has done. We work as a better unified country when we understand this. Believe it or not, we are better unified when we have the free speech to say that we disagree with something the president has done. Barack Obama did not wear a hat when he was in Baltimore yesterday. I think that was stupid.

A surprisingly good thing came out of Nazareth and something surprisingly good is happening in our nation this week. Regardless of our politics or of how we voted in November, let us gather together this week as Christians and as Americans and celebrate the fact that an African American is finally in the White House. Our forebears in the United Church of Christ were among the first to fight slavery and were also quite active in the Civil Rights Movement, and we can be proud that our ancestors just might have had a hand in what is happening this Tuesday. May God guide us and give us strength to fight slavery and oppression as it continues today.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 01/04/09 (Matthew 2:1-12)

2009-01-05T08:32:00.000-08:00

“The Journey to Christ”
Matthew 2:1-12
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 4 January, 2009
Second Sunday after Christmas - Epiphany Sunday
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Sometimes I think that the name I chose for my newsletter column is rather presumptuous. “An Offering of Gold?!” I realize that some of my articles are better than others -- and this month I don’t have even have an article! That said, I wanted something that corresponded with my name and something that was also scriptural. The word “gold” appears 548 times in the Bible, and upon looking through the places in which it appears, this phrase seemed to be most fitting for the name of a newsletter column: “They offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” The gifts of the magi are presented in a humble manner, because they are gifts to the Christ child, and it is in that spirit of humility that I hope to present my newsletter column to you each month (well, most months).

Now here we are, on Epiphany Sunday, encountering those Wise Men as they follow the star to Bethlehem to meet the Christ Child for the first time. The story of the Wise Men -- remember, nowhere does the scripture tell us that there were three of them -- is lumped into our consciousness with the Christmas story. Nativity scenes on front lawns frequently include the Wise Men gathered around the manger, along with the shepherds and the donkeys. When shopping for Christmas cards this year, I had a hard time finding ones that didn’t include the Wise Men -- in fact, some Christmas card designs show only the Wise Men (and there are always three of them).

It is understandable why we do this -- why we lump the Epiphany in with Christmas. Less than two weeks ago, we were gathered in this church to celebrate the birth of Jesus, reading the birth narratives from the Gospel of Luke. Last week I insisted to you that it was still Christmas (which it still technically is today), and our Gospel reading detailed the circumcision of the baby Jesus. Jewish babies are circumcised when they are only a few days old. Our Gospel today begins with the words, “In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?’”

We seem to be following a straight trajectory here -- birth, circumcision, visit from the Wise Men, otherwise known as Magi. But, in fact, many scholars believe that Jesus was a toddler by the time the Magi visited. In any case, he was certainly not still a tiny baby in a manger.

And who were these “Wise Men from the East”? Tradition has given them many forms throughout the centuries. Matthew’s gospel calls them simply “magoi,” a word that could mean several different things: magicians, priests of some sort, or astrologers. The role of astrologer seems likely, since they follow a star in order to find Jesus. Sometimes, however, tradition has referred to them as “kings,” probably because of the expensive gifts they brought. One tradition even gives them names: Melchior, king of Persia; Gaspar, king of India; and Balthasar, king of Arabia. But nowhere in our scriptures are they designated as kings, nor given names, nor specified as three in number. We know only that they were Wise Men -- of some sort -- from the East, who followed a star to find “the child who has been born king of the Jews,” and brought that child expensive gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

What of those gifts? We know what gold is, of course. Both myrrh and frankincense were fragrant scents that were frequently given to royalty in various forms. Frankincense was part of the holy perfume used in the sanctuary and nowhere else. Myrrh was sometimes used as an anointing oil for priests. Myrrh was also used as an embalming ointment after death, and in the Gospel of John we read that “Nicodemus brought ‘a mixture of myrrh and aloes, a hundred pounds’ weight,” for the preparation of Jesus’ body” after his crucifixion. For this reason, some people have ascribed symbolic meaning to the myrrh Jesus was given by the Magi, to tie the birth of the Messiah to his death. Again, symbolism has been added that does not appear in the scripture itself. All we know is that the gifts brought by the Magi were befitting of a king.

What, then, is the point of all this, now that we have unpacked it? What is Epiphany, and why do we celebrate it? In one sense, Epiphany does connect to Christmas Eve, in that it is an extension of the light we celebrated on that holy night. It is actually epiphanies, plural, one of many such manifestations of the Christ-light coming into the world. It is also about the search for the Messiah, and by extension, our own search. The Magi went to great lengths to find the Christ child. They traveled to Jerusalem, sought out King Herod there to ask him where the child might be, and went to Bethlehem. These were long journeys in a time when travel was uncomfortable and time-consuming. Once they had found this young Messiah and offered him their gifts, they went out of their way to avoid King Herod, because a dream had told them to do so. In other words, they went to great effort, both to seek the Christ and to return home from their visit with him.

Where are we willing to go to find the Christ? What are we willing to do in our search for Jesus? Perhaps we do not need to travel from country to country looking for him. We may not need to go anywhere physically at all. But where do our thoughts need to go, where do our hearts need to go in order for us to truly worship the Christ? What in our lives do we need to set aside in order for us to be able to focus on our spiritual journey? What things do we need to forget before we can do what we need to do as Christ-followers?

May the Christ be revealed to you during this season of Epiphany. And may this revelation rededicate you to your mission as a Christian, a follower of Christ.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 12/28/08 (Psalm 148)

2008-12-28T15:45:00.000-08:00

“Cacophony of Praise”
Psalm 148
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 28 December, 2008
First Sunday after Christmas
----
I was recently asked what my favorite image of God is in the Bible. I thought for a moment and then answered, “The image of God as Creator.” I don’t know if I love this image because I believe so strongly in environmental causes or if I am an environmentalist because I believe so strongly in a Creator God (I believe in evolution too, but that’s another sermon for another day). In any case, I cannot but give thanks to God when I witness a particularly beautiful scene in nature. In the same bent, I cannot but feel heartbroken when I see nature being destroyed.

Thus, when I read our Psalm for this morning my heart veritably sang with recognition. The Psalmist calls upon the sun and moon to praise the Lord, and then: “Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command! Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds! Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! Young men and women alike, old and young together! Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is exalted; his glory is above earth and heaven.”

I can imagine all these members of God’s Creation praising God in their unique ways. The sea monsters -- whales, for example -- would praise God through their whale song. Wild animals would praise God through the unique noises they make. Cattle would praise God by mooing joyfully. Creeping things would praise God by, well, whatever way they would. Birds of the air would praise God by soaring to the heavens or singing beautifully. Fruit trees and cedars would praise God by striving to get the best sunlight and the best nutrients. Men and women would praise God through song and dance. I imagine all of God’s Creation praising God at once, making a deafening sound that somehow was beautiful and did not bother other species, because it was done as an act of praise.

Although this Psalm was written long before Jesus was born, I can imagine all Creation engaging in these simultaneous songs of praise as Christ is brought into the world. “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!” They would fall silent immediately thereafter so as not to disturb the newborn infant who, like any child, needed sleep. Then all of God’s Creation would find silent, but still beautiful ways of praising God for the birth of the Christ child. Some of our Christmas carols describe the animals in the manger “bowing down before him,” and I imagine all of Creation doing so. “Silent night, holy night.” For this one magical night the lion and the lamb would lay down together, with no desire to destroy the other, yet no hunger gnawing at them.

On this first Sunday after Christmas, when Christians are still well-ensconced in the Christmas season, I have not yet let go of the peacefulness of Christmas Eve. I still feel the hope that seems to open like a flower on Christmas Eve, the light coming back into the world after a dark year. I still feel that things will be better this year, and I connect this to Christ Jesus being born in us again on Christmas Eve -- just as he is year after year. I am still praising the Lord softly with all Creation, and I feel a peace I have not felt in some time.

But, of course, not all of Creation is at peace. We still have violence and poverty and sickness and heartbreak. The son of family friends of ours was found dead a few weeks ago. I imagine his parents are not praising God as vociferously as I am. There are those among you who are having a difficult time. To you, these songs of praise may seem to exist for the sole purpose of tormenting you. “How can anyone -- wild animal or human -- praise God when I feel like this?!” Or you may feel guilty for begrudging anyone their joyous celebration. “I know I should be praising God. I am wrong not to join in the songs of praise. I am wrong to shrink away from the babe in the manger.” You get so tangled up in your guilt that you join in the songs of praise even as your heart breaks -- you sound more joyful than anyone else in the room. You will praise God, even if it tears you apart to do so.

But listen. In this morning’s Psalm the whole of God’s Creation is singing songs of praise. The entire Christian world is singing “Joy to the world!” Don’t you think these songs of praise will still be beautiful, even if you can’t participate this year? We are called to praise God, and your voice will be missed. But God forgives those who do not join in songs of praise when their hearts are breaking. Indeed, there is nothing to forgive. Would God begrudge a bird with a broken wing if it did not fly in a beautiful formation? Just so, God simply reaches out to comfort those among God’s Creation who cannot join in the celebrations.

Much of God’s Creation is limping -- facing extinction, suffering the effects of pollution, losing the only place it has called home. God is only too aware that survival needs to be at the top of the list for these creatures, and they may not be able to join in the dance around the manger this year.

The rest of us, however, are called to pick up the slack by joining together in praising the Lord. We have just been given the incarnation of God in the world, the Christ child, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Let us praise God! And let us do so not only with our cacophony of voices, but by caring for God’s Creation. Let us praise the Lord by caring for our sisters and brothers who are hurting. Let us praise the Lord by fighting against pollution and fighting for conservation. Let us praise the Lord by reducing, reusing, and recycling. Let us praise the Lord by doing all that we can to make sure that God’s Creation is here another year.

What better way can we praise the Lord than by making sure the sea monsters, and wild animals, and creeping things, and birds of the air, and cedars, and fruit trees, and women, and men are here to celebrate another Christmas? What better way can we celebrate God’s incarnation into the world than by making sure the world is still here next year to celebrate?

May those of you with aching hearts find comfort in the familiar words of scripture. God embraces you as you are silent this year. God loves each one of us no matter who we are or where we are on life’s journey. But may those rest of us who are able praise God with our songs and with our actions. Now let us pray.

A Meditation on the Light - Xmas Eve 2008

2008-12-26T09:14:00.000-08:00

“A Meditation on the Light”
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Christmas Eve 2008
----
This has been a dark year. There seems to be some kind of a gloom hanging over our world. I overheard a man say the other day that there is some sort of a national depression, and he wasn’t talking just about the economy. We are in our sixth year of war with Iraq, we face violence in our own city, we see corruption in politics -- and yes, there’s the economy. More people are hungry or homeless than have been in a long time. Our prayer list at church never lacks for names -- we all know someone who is sick or hurting, or we are sick or hurting ourselves. We are worried about umpteen things. A spark of hope arose for many after election day, but by December we were in the doldrums again. I have witnessed more aching hearts in the past year than I had seen in a long time.

Amidst this malaise, we have been busy. We have been caring for loved ones, or working hard not to lose our jobs, or looking for new jobs. We may have to try even harder than usual to provide for our needs and the needs of our families, but we are trying. And we’re tired. We’re tired and aching and it’s dark.

...But wait! Here in this darkness, where hope seems elusive, a tiny light begins to glow. Just a pinprick of light. ...Do you see it? It is the light of the star over Bethlehem. As we sit here in the peacefulness of this church the light begins to glow a little brighter, until we can make out the shape of a tiny infant lying in a manger. He’s an ordinary newborn, red-faced and wrinkly. But there is nothing ordinary about a newborn. And this tiny baby, who we can just make out by the light of the star, will be the hope of the world. He will be the Savior we so desperately need.

This is not to say that our broken hearts will mend tomorrow or that our broken world will be made whole with the snap of his tiny fingers. But as Christians we believe that Jesus is the Light of the world. May his birth tonight -- the birth of Emmanuel, God-With-Us -- bring light back into our world. May this Christmas be the beginning of a hopeful year, a light-filled year, a year of strength and joy, where pain becomes secondary in our lives. May our hearts begin to open tonight, to let in the light of that extraordinary baby in a manger. May his new life bring new life to our world.

Now, as we bathe in the light of Christ, let us pray.

Sermon 12/21/08 (Luke 1+26-38)

2008-12-26T09:10:00.000-08:00

“Holiday Interruptions”
Luke 1:26-38
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 21 December, 2008
Fourth Sunday of Advent
----
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
All the creatures were stirring -- even the mouse!
There’d been parties and baking and gifts wrapped with care
Even some scripture -- look, Angel Gabriel there!

The children, they listened, to a story known well
The household was cozy, the holidays swell
When out from the street there seeped in such a sadness
They all ran to the window: “What is this madness?!”

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday to objects below
When what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a man, clearly homeless, huddled in fear

He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with dirt and with soot
His every belonging was tied up in a bag
His household had made for his shoulders to sag

He had a sadness about him -- seemed heartbroken, really
It was Christmas Eve, after all, wonder what he is feeling
To be on the street, without home, in the cold
It’s enough to make anybody feel old

And as for that family, what on earth were they thinking?
“He’s homeless and dirty -- surely he must be drinking!
How dare this sad soul bring interruption so rude
To our festivities now -- out there begging for food!

It’s Christmas -- time to talk about Jesus and Mary
This man on the street -- he’s just downright scary!”
The man began walking away, as if he had heard them
So they went back to their story -- the manger in Bethlehem

But they heard him say softly as he walked out of sight
“Jesus was homeless too on that first Christmas night.”

Here we are, just a few days before Christmas, and I feel a bit like a chicken with my head cut off. I’ve been really busy, and I’m behind on everything -- Christmas cards, gift-buying, decorating. A lot of people I’ve talked to are running late this year. I don’t know if it’s the economy, or the fact that Thanksgiving was late, or what. All I know is that life is hectic.

Everything is hectic and festive all at once. All I really want to do this morning is sing a Christmas carol or two and daydream about the Angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she is going to have a baby. All I want to do tonight is sit in my warm house and write the last of my Christmas cards while listening to Christmas music. I just want to think about my loved ones -- most of whom are safe and warm in their own houses -- and imagine the Virgin Mary feeling happy and excited that God chose her. Instead, I am lifting up prayers for the homeless this morning, and tonight I plan to go out in the cold to the Homeless Persons Memorial Service at the Inner Harbor.

It seems like a rude interruption. Why are we bringing this up now?! Why do we have to talk about homelessness the Sunday before Christmas? Why couldn’t this wait until, you know, drab January or something?

The reason this can’t wait is because homelessness doesn’t end just because it’s Christmas. And homelessness certainly doesn’t end just because it’s wet and cold outside. The Homeless Persons Memorial Service is held tonight, in part, because it is the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. Most of us can barely begin to imagine what it is like to be on streets, alone, in the middle of the night, night after night. It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s lonely and it’s frightening. But nearly 8,000 people in Maryland are homeless. As many as 3.5 million people in the United States experience homelessness in a given year (and the number tends to increase during economic crises).

Homelessness is an interruption. It is an interruption in the realm of God for which we strive. It is an interruption in the otherwise productive lives of human beings. It is an interruption in the care of people who could find happiness and health if they had a home and effective resources. And God has every right to interrupt the lives of those of us who have a home, if such interruption will get us to reach out to those who are desperately in need.

God has a habit of interrupting humankind for good reasons. Indeed, one such interruption came to a young girl named Mary about two thousand years ago. She was going about her business -- a young girl, probably around the age of 13 or 14, preparing for her marriage to a man named Joseph. This was not a good time to get pregnant. This was not a good time for any big interruption -- she had a lot on her plate already. But God had other plans for her. When God sent the Angel Gabriel to announce what God had planned for Mary, God changed the course of Mary’s life, and the course of history. Would any of us begrudge God that interruption, knowing what we know now?

During what remains of this “holiday season” let us welcome the meaningful interruptions that come our way. By taking time out from our festivities tonight to focus on a solemn reality in our city, we will be witnessing to the Truth of the Gospel. By allowing a young child to interrupt our busyness with her childlike wonder, we will be opening our hearts to the mystery of this season. By leaving the party early and going home to read the timeless Bible story, we will be reminding ourselves of the birth of One who turned the world upside down and made it right. May God open our hearts to such holy interruptions.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 12/14/08 (John 1:6-8, 19-28)

2008-12-20T17:26:00.000-08:00

Third Sunday of Advent
John 1:6-8, 19-28
Sunday, 14 December, 2008
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
----
Who can tell me what a witness does? ... A witness gives a detailed description of something that they have seen, or of something that they know. These days, the word “witness” probably first conjures up the image of a courtroom and a person being interviewed by lawyers. Indeed, when I did an Internet search for the word “witness” most of the results had to do with courtroom drama.

But, of course, there are other types of witnesses. If I asked you what a “witness” is in a religious context, you might immediately think of the “Jehovah’s Witnesses.” The Jehovah’s Witnesses religious group named themselves after a line from the Book of Isaiah: “You are my witnesses, is the utterance of Jehovah...” And now we’re more on track with this morning’s use of the word. A witness can be someone who believes something so deeply that they simply have to share it with the world. In the words of this morning’s Gospel: “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light.”

John had the singular opportunity of knowing the Light of the World before it even came into the world. He knew the Truth in his heart so deeply that he simply had to tell everyone around him. Indeed, God had sent him to do just that. We who sit here today are in a somewhat different position. Jesus already came into the world once. We have a book filled with stories about his birth, his life, his death, and his resurrection. It would seem that we have nothing in common with John the Baptist, who showed up before Jesus was born. We cannot “witness to the light” in the same way that John did. But in fact we have quite a bit in common with John the Baptist. Like him, we have been called to testify to the Light that is Jesus the Christ.

What does it mean to “witness to the light” in our context? It means that we are called to share what we know about Jesus Christ with those around us. During the season of Advent, we talk about Christ coming back into the world, and this is a good time for witness. During Advent we might have more people in church than we usually do, and we can share with them what we know about Jesus. This does not necessarily mean telling people the specifics -- that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, that he was a rabbi from a young age, that he traveled around to this city and that, and where exactly he died on the cross and reappeared to those who loved him. “Witnessing to the Light” has more to do with sharing the kind of love that Jesus preached -- love for the poor, the oppressed, the enemy.

It’s fairly easy to do this when we’re in church. We can show visitors the love of Christ through the way we worship, the hymns we sing, the way we treat one another and the visitors themselves. But we are not just called to witness inside the walls of a church sanctuary on Sunday mornings. John the Baptist witnessed to the light wherever he went, and we are called to do the same thing.

This does not mean that we have to go around telling people, “You should believe in Jesus or else”! This is not helpful, especially in our culture, and I do not believe it is an expression of the real Truth of the Gospel. But we can witness to the truth of the gospel by living that truth -- by loving our neighbors as ourselves, thereby setting an example of the kind of love Jesus preached. This is when witnessing gets more difficult. Witnessing to the light means truly loving the most troublesome people among us. In the words of what is actually a great rap song by Kanye West, Jesus walks “with the hustlers, killers, murderers, drug dealers, even the strippers.” If we are going to witness to the true light that is Jesus Christ, then we need to reach out in love to those kinds of people. This means realizing that the most despised people in our society are creatures of God...children of God. As you know, I have a pen-friend who is in prison. It is easy to reach out to him, because he comes across as very pleasant and is very strong in his own faith -- we talk about God a lot. But truly witnessing to the light of Christ means knowing that even the worst criminal who will never come across as pleasant or faithful is, in fact, loved by God. It also means realizing that, while God may judge us for our actions in this world (while still truly loving us), we humans are not supposed to get involved in the judging part, just the loving.

In an economy like this one, it seems like poverty carries less of a stigma -- which is a good thing -- and reaching out to people in need has become “the thing to do.” But in order to truly be witness to the light we need to help those in need not because it’s popular and not even because we know we could be in the same place. We need to do it because we know something so wonderful about Jesus, and that he has called us to do so.

Advent is a good time to do some of this witnessing. Opportunities are all around us -- giving Christmas baskets, for example, or getting a gift for a man at Earl’s Place. But Advent is also a good time to prepare for the witnessing that we have been called to do the rest of the year. Witnessing to the truth of the Gospel -- witnessing to the love of Christ -- is not a once-a-year job. It is something that God calls us to do 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, with every breath we take. It’s tough stuff. Loving the greatest enemies among us -- yes, even terrorists -- takes a lot of work and a lot of prayer. Even as we carry out acts of witness during this Advent season, this contemplative time in the life of the church is a good opportunity to gird ourselves for the hard work we will do the rest of the year. Take extra time to pray for those less fortunate, and include among them those human beings who are in prison. This is a very difficult time to be behind bars, even if you’re the worst person on earth. When you sing “Peace on earth, good will to all,” remember that all really does mean every human being -- or it least it would have to the Messiah for whom we are witnessing. Take time to breathe in and realize how much God loves you -- often we’re better at loving the rest of the world than we are at remembering that we are included among those whom God loves. And remember that John the Baptist was not the only one who witnessed to the light. You are called to witness too.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 11/30/08 (Isaiah 64:1-9)

2008-11-30T17:16:00.000-08:00

“Works in Progress”
Isaiah 64:1-9
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 30 November, 2008
First Sunday of Advent
----
I am a little shocked that the Season of Advent begins today. I should be ready for it. After all, I have seen Christmas advertisements in the stores since late September. I have been getting Christmas catalogs since August. And now “the holiday season” is really in full swing. “Black Friday” has taken place, and although I was far from the shopping malls I saw pictures of the mayhem in the news. I am working on my annual Christmas letter and will sit down to begin my Christmas cards in a week or two. But right now I’m not ready for it. ...Why is that?

I think there is one main reason Advent shocks us -- or at least me. Outside the walls of the church the Christmas season is in full swing. We see Santa Claus and snowmen and cheerful babies in mangers, surrounded by a glowing Mary and Joseph. I sat in a deli last week and was nauseated by a constant stream of bad Christmas carols, sung by overwrought musicians. A crowd of 2,000 greed-blinded people rushed through the door of a Wal Mart on Friday, killing an employee who was hired to assist with the busy holiday season.

These experiences are what “the Christmas season” has become to the outside world. Then I walk in the doors of the church and am in a different world. Here the Christmas season does not even begin until December 25th. The Advent season -- the four weeks leading up to Christmas -- is a solemn time in the church. It is a time for contemplation and prayer. ...And look at the scriptures! We are not welcomed this morning with a sentimental tale about a Christ-child born in Bethlehem. Instead -- smack! -- we are hit with dark words about the anger of God toward a sinful people and about the Second Coming of Christ. We must reconfigure our cheerful holiday mood when we enter the doors of the church and prepare for something a little different.

It is a shock to the senses to go from “Oh, Holy Night” to “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.” It makes the head spin to go from “Jingle Bells” to “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence...to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!” Yet there they are. There are those dark words that usher us into the Season of Advent. And once we get past the initial shock, I hope we will realize the beauty of the words and their reason for being here. The theme of the First Sunday of Advent every year is “hope,” and I pray that we will see the hope contained in Isaiah’s and Mark’s shocking words too.

Our reading from Isaiah begins with a desperate prayer for God to make God’s presence known: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” Is this not exactly what we need? Our world is hurting terribly right now. We set aside our pain as much as we can so we can “get into the holiday spirit.” We shrug off our woes so we can make the best Christmas possible for our families. We ignore the horrors of the world and delve into “Christmas cheer.” ...This is not entirely a bad thing. Escapism has its purposes. But perhaps this year, more than ever, what we really need to be doing during this season is calling out to God, begging for forgiveness, and becoming aware that we are created by God.

We talk every week about the troubles in our lives and in our world. This week, the terrible violence in Mumbai, India was one more thing to add to our prayers. Is there not tremendous hope in the idea of God tearing open the heavens and coming to save us?

Then there is Isaiah’s cry for forgiveness. Even as we weep in horror at the transgressions of our fellow humans we, too, commit sins. Isn’t confessing those sins before God a perfect way to prepare for Christ’s coming into the world? Whether we have turned from God in large or small ways, cleaning our slate is a way of showing that we respect and honor the Christ who is about to come into our midst. It is also a good way to check our own spiritual gauge during what has become a “holiday season” about greed and hectic activity.

Finally, there is Isaiah’s description of God as the potter and humankind as the clay. This is a beautiful reminder that we belong to God and that God has not, in fact, stopped the process of creating us. We’re works in progress. Advent marks the beginning of the Christian year, so maybe this can be a new beginning for us -- a time to allow God to re-create us, to mold us in God’s image.

This morning, in a few moments, we will baptize Jonathan Russell. Jonathan is at the very beginning of his life’s journey, and one of the things we emphasize at a baptism is the Christian journey. As a congregation, we will promise “our love, support and care” to Jonathan “as he lives and grows in Christ.” It will be easy to think of him as the clay that God is molding, because he is so young. Every time he does something, we can practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he learns new things about his world.

But perhaps the words of Isaiah, and the coming Advent of Christ can help us to realize that we, too, are being molded and changed; that we are growing in new ways with every breath we take. Today is Margaret King’s 95th birthday. Today Jonathan will celebrate his first birthday. Let us take this season of Advent to remember that Margaret is a work in progress, just as Jonathan is. God is creating us continuously, developing our spirits and our hearts and our minds from before we are born until the day that we die. Let us respect and honor God’s creation of us by taking time to nurture our spirits during this Advent season.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 11/23/08 (Deut. 8:7-18; Matt. 25:31-46)

2008-11-23T15:40:00.000-08:00

“Thanks & Giving”
Deuteronomy 8:7-18; Matthew 25:31-46
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 23 November, 2008
Reign of Christ Sunday
Thanksgiving Sunday
----
We have been talking a lot lately about how troubled our world is, and for good reason: these are, indeed, troubled times. We have been at war in Iraq for more than 5 years, with no exit strategy in sight. Countless other parts of the world face war, and violence erupts on a regular basis in Baltimore city. Natural disasters hit our own and other coasts, and fires rage in California. Then there’s the economy. Food pantries and homeless shelters have seen an influx of new clients, and whether or not we’re there yet, we worry about how we’ll pay our bills.

In short, our world does not much resemble the one described in our reading from Deuteronomy: “a land where you may eat bread without scarcity, where you will lack nothing.” It doesn’t seem much like our Psalm: “You crown the year with your bounty; your wagon tracks overflow with richness.” The reading from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians falls on deaf ears: “God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that [we] always [have] enough of everything.”

Our scriptures contain many such tales of God’s abundance. God will provide for all of our needs, we’re told. God will present to us a land flowing with milk and honey, we read. God’s blessings will be too many for us to count. We should cry to God with songs of thanksgiving! We should praise God with our every breath, the scriptures tell us!

...Instead of praising God with songs of thanksgiving, we worry about how we will pay our bills -- maybe even how we will put food on the table. We read scriptures like today’s and put them aside, because they don’t seem to fit our current situation. But here they are this morning. How do we deal with scriptures like these in times like these? And how do we treat a holiday like Thanksgiving, when we’re not too sure about “thanking God for abundance”? I suggest that the first thing we do is to count our blessings. Yes, life might be hard for us right now. Business might be slow, we might be worried about money, we might be concerned about loved ones serving in the military. We might have serious health problems or be worried about loved ones who do. We might wonder how we are going to provide a Thanksgiving dinner -- or any dinner. Life might be hard in different ways for those of us here. But we all have at least one thing in common: Regardless of whatever else is going on in our lives, we have been blessed with the ability to join together and worship at St. Mark’s this morning. We were well enough to get out of bed. We have eaten recently enough to have the energy to get here. And here we are. There’s one big blessing for which we can give thanks to God: we have the strength to worship in a community of faith this Sunday morning. Here’s another one: Every one of us here is invited to a Thanksgiving dinner after church today. Whatever our plans are for this Thursday, today we will have a sumptuous meal and a loving family with which to share it. Blessing Number Two.

My guess is that you will, in fact, come up with many more blessings once you sit down and really think about it. We have more abundance than we ever would have imagined. I think, in fact, that it may be easier to count one’s blessings during difficult times. During times of plenty, we have so much stuff that it becomes almost too much to quantify. We begin to take life for granted and think that our abundance is strictly the result of our own hard work. We leave God out of the equation. But during times of struggle, there’s less to count. We might spend a fair bit of time complaining to God about having less. But then we realize that we have still been blessed with much, and we are able to express gratitude to the God who gave it to us.

What, then, do we do with all of our blessings once we’ve counted them? How do we respond to the God who has given us much even when we think we have little? We first, of course, respond by falling to our knees and praising God. But once we have given thanks for God’s “indescribable gift,” what do we do with the blessings that we have?

“for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

We express our gratitude to God by caring for God’s children. Whether we live in a beautiful home and eat a fancy meal every night, or whether we live on the streets and eat out of a trash can, there is always someone who is worse off than we are. Christ commands us -- whoever we are -- to drop whatever we are doing and care for those people who are suffering. If you have food or water or clothing beyond what you absolutely need, then you are called to share it with the one who has none. And you do not require any material wealth in order to welcome the stranger, take care of the sick, or visit the prisoner. Any one of us can do that, and that is a blessing that we can all count among what God has given us: the ability to care for our neighbors.

The beautiful thing about this morning’s scriptures, in light of the Thanksgiving holiday we will celebrate in a few days, is that they apply to every one of us. I implore you to center yourself in prayer and realize that God has, in fact, provided you with an “indescribable gift.” And I ask you to come to terms with the fact that whoever you are, or wherever you are on life’s journey, you have something to give to those who are less fortunate than you.

These are hard times for all of us, for a lot of different reasons. But following our scriptures will make the world a better place. Feeding one another, welcoming one another, caring for one another, and visiting one another will improve the state of our world...and it will be serving Christ directly.

Being a Christian means being able to turn to God when things are tough. It means thanking God for even the tiniest blessings. And it means taking care of our neighbors, God’s children, remembering that they come in every color, nationality, description. They are the immigrant, the convict, the AIDS victim, the upstanding, healthy American citizen who comes to church every Sunday. Christ himself takes every form.

Let us give thanks for our blessings, for our diversity as humankind, and for our ability to help one another. Now let us pray.

Sermon 11/16/08 (Matthew 25:14-30)

2008-11-20T15:17:00.000-08:00

“First Century Wall Street”
Matthew 25:14-30
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 16 November, 2008
Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
I recently read a news story about a contractor who found more than $100,000 cash inside the walls of a house he was remodeling. During the Great Depression, a previous owner of the home had stashed the money inside the walls to keep it safe -- investing it was obviously too risky in those days.

The contractor told the current owner of the house, a friend for whom he was doing a favor, about the money, and they agreed to split it. Then somehow the story hit the news, and descendants of the home’s original owners stepped in and said that the cash was rightfully theirs. A legal battle ensued, and everyone got a little cut of the money -- the contractor, the current homeowner, the family of the original owner -- but nobody won. Perhaps most poignantly, the man who had put the money in the wall in the first place never got to use a penny of it, since he had died many years before.

I don’t have a mind for economics, but I do know that some risk is involved. If you hide your money in the wall or bury it in the ground -- like the third slave in this morning’s scripture did -- it will do nobody any good. The stock market is all about risk -- risking enough to get a return on your investment but not risking so much that you lose all your money. There is a complex science to it, which is why people hire financial advisers to figure out how to go about investing.

I also understand that during difficult economic times, like the Great Depression and like our current economic climate, people want to take as little risk as possible. As banks fail, people become more prone to hiding their money under the mattress -- or in the wall. They hoard it and don’t want to spend it anywhere, much less the stock market. Like the slave who hid his talent in the ground, they wind up with the same amount that they began with -- no less, but no more either.

The master in this morning’s gospel lesson entrusted his slaves with an enormous amount of money. It should be noted that “talents” do not refer to personal abilities. In this culture a “talent” represented an enormous amount of money, something like twenty years worth of the slaves’ normal wages. When the first two slaves doubled the talents given them by trading, we can think of this like a first century stock market. It is not known exactly how they would have doubled the money, but it is understood that they invested it, taking risks in order to improve on the initial investment. They apparently took the right risks, because they doubled their money.

The third slave, on the other hand, opted to avoid the risk. It was not unusual for people to bury money for safekeeping -- but the slave indicates that he did so not because he was afraid of the risk but because his master “was harsh and reaped what he did not sow.” There is no indication in the text that the master was harsh -- he did, after all, entrust his slaves with large sums of money -- so perhaps the third slave’s complaint was just an excuse. He may, in fact, have expected the master to be pleased with the fact that he returned the entire capital of the investment, rather than losing it on some “first century Wall Street.” But once he saw that his master was so pleased with his two risk-taking compatriots, he had to think of a quick excuse. ...The truth is, we don’t know why he really buried the money -- whether he did so out of spite, out of fear, or what. All we have is the conclusion: those who take risks may be rewarded handsomely, while those who do nothing will lose out.

In difficult economic times, the language of this scripture is difficult to hear. Even those of us who don’t do a whole lot of investing in the stock market take fewer risks when we have less money with which to take them. We are more careful with our money, and we are less trusting of banks. The illustration of taking risks when investing our money is hard to hear right now. However, we should remember that this is Jesus speaking here. He used the illustration of a master giving money to his slaves because his listeners would have understood that, but he was not saying that God won’t love us if we don’t invest in the stock market. He was telling a story to make a larger point...and what was that point? If we are not willing to take risks -- in whatever, but especially in our faith lives -- we will lose out.

Being a Christian means putting your heart on the line. It means taking all sorts of risks, from the financial to the emotional to the spiritual...even the physical. We take risks when we give our money away -- in the offering plate, to organizations, to a person on the street. Will our money truly get used to the glory of God? We take risks when we invite people to come to our church. Will we like them? (not that that is what being the church is about) Will they benefit the church? We take risks when we commit ourselves to a cause. Will our hearts be broken if it doesn’t go the way we want? We take risks when we engage in any kind of mission. What if I am physically hurt while I’m building this Habitat for Humanity house? Should I really be traveling to that part of the city or this part of the world? We take spiritual risks whenever we do anything in the service of God. Will I still feel the same way about God if this doesn’t go as planned?

First century followers of Christ took special risks. They risked being persecuted for following this countercultural rabbi. They risked their livelihoods by dropping what they were doing and following this strange man, Jesus. But their willingness to take risks meant that they would reap a tremendous reward: eternal life.

Our willingness to take risks for our faith yields that great reward too -- we are promised eternal life. This, of course, is the ultimate goal. But there are more tangible rewards as well. The money we put in the offering plate will help to make a better church. When we give money to Earl’s Place or other organizations we may be changing lives -- yes, even the pennies we put in add up. It’s true that not every single person who goes into Earl’s Place or other organizations succeeds. So, was our money wasted? No. That person had shelter and regular meals for a time.

When we ask people to come to our church, we reap the benefits of meeting wonderful children of God. Of course we “risk” inviting people who are not like us...but isn’t that the point? They, too, are children of God, and their presence among us will be a Godly thing.

When we commit ourselves to a cause, yes, we risk having our hearts broken. My sister, along with thousands of people across the country, was disillusioned when Proposition 8 passed in California. But she, along with many others, is reaping the benefits of joining together with other people who believe as she does. Even when our hearts are broken, good can arise when we join together.

I vaguely remember hitting my thumb with a hammer when I was building a Habitat for Humanity house in college. But that house now shelters a family. I’ve gone into some bad neighborhoods...but I’ve been reminded of God’s presence there in the process.

The spiritual risks are always there, whenever we put our heart on the line in the service of Christ. But the benefits follow. So I ask you, even in these difficult times -- especially in these difficult times -- to continue to take risks for your faith. The rewards will be heavenly...and earthly too.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 11/09/08 (Amos 5:18-24; Matt. 25:1-13)

2008-11-20T15:12:00.000-08:00

“Justice Flowing Like the Mississippi”
Amos 5:18-24; Matthew 25:1-13
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 9 November, 2008
Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
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For the past month or so I have been encouraging you to vote, and I proudly went to the polls on Tuesday morning. Then on Wednesday I read an article suggesting that Christians shouldn’t vote. What?! I have always been taught that we should vote, and I just spent weeks telling you that Christians should vote prayerfully. I almost didn’t read the article when I saw it because I thought it would be a bunch of baloney, but it actually was interesting.

One of the reasons that the article gave for not voting was that we don’t actually have much power when we vote in a presidential election. As J.T. pointed out to me after church last Sunday, the general population doesn’t actually choose the president; the electoral college does. The article suggested that until this system is changed our voting in a presidential election is just a sham. According to the article, “If voting is not a definite evil...it is at best the weakest and most ineffective form of Christian political action.” The question is also asked, “If you don’t believe in capital punishment or war, why vote to put people in positions where they will be forced, by their oath of office, to engage in them?”

Then there’s the issue of the secret ballot. Americans champion the fact that we have a secret ballot -- we are the only person who knows how we voted -- but the article points out that “Christian ethics are inherently public and communal.” Therefore, making such an important moral decision in secret goes against the Christian grain.

I still believe what I’ve been telling you for the past month, and I still believe that my vote counted for something. But this article, mixed together with some other things I read this week, and with this morning’s scriptures got me thinking. Americans had a lot banking on this year’s elections -- even more than usual, it seemed. Regardless of who won the presidency, history was in the making (and has now been made). Christians all across the spectrum were talking about “justice” and “how God created us,” with relation to gay marriage amendments and other initiatives. The fact that the United States finally has an African American president (or would have had a female vice president) is shocking justice too, especially since African Americans were granted the right to vote in 1870 and women were granted the right to vote in 1920. But are we Christians banking too much of our justice on the secular government of our country? Are we focusing too much on the “empire” of the United States rather than on the coming Empire of God?

In our Old Testament reading for this morning, the prophet Amos cries “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” You may recognize these words from Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. In that context, King was, of course, referring to civil rights in the United States, but in its original context the words relate to the Realm of God.

Rev. Dr. King talks about a world in which his children “will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” I certainly believe that the coming Realm, or Empire, or Kingdom of God will be such a place -- in which we are not judged by the color of our skin but by the content of our character. But people know these words of the prophet Amos more from Martin Luther King than they do from the Holy Bible.

Then there is our reading from Matthew. I have never gotten along very well with this parable. Why didn’t the bridesmaids who had more oil share with those who ran out? Doesn’t Christ usually teach us to share? In my conversations with other ministers I learned that I am not alone in wrestling with this scripture. However, I did gain some insight. In this culture, a bride’s husband-to-be was expected to build her a house before their wedding. The wedding would take place at a moment’s notice, when the house was ready, and the guests had to be prepared. It was the responsibility of the bridesmaids to guide the wedding party from the bride’s home to the location of the wedding. If the wise women shared their oil with the foolish women, then the wise women may not have had enough oil either, and they all would have run out of oil on their way to the wedding feast. They weren’t being mean; they were making sure that there would be enough light for the journey.

Of course, Jesus is not simply warning his listeners to be ready for a wedding. The bridesmaids represent the faithful (i.e., us), and the “bridegroom” is Christ himself. We are to be always prepared for Christ’s return, and for the Kingdom, or the Empire of God.

In the second article I read this Wednesday, UCC pastor Andrew Warner referred to this Gospel parable and said that American Christians tend to “put too much power in the hands of the president and too little in Jesus.” He pointed out that we tend to use a great deal of eschatalogical language in politics -- we act like presidents and prime ministers have as much to do with the “end times” as Jesus Christ. In making his point he quoted Ronald Reagan, in a campaign speech from 1979: “Someone once said that the difference between an American and any other kind of person is that an American lives in anticipation of the future because he knows it will be a great place.” I am sure Reagan’s listeners cheered when they heard his words, just as crowds cheered when they heard the promises for a new world made by Barack Obama and John McCain. But are we cheering for the wrong things and waiting for the wrong tomorrow? That is, do we cheer as loudly when we hear Jesus talking about “anticipation of the future” (being ready) “because we know it will be a great place?” Do we cheer as loud when we hear the prophet Amos (not just as he is quoted by Martin Luther King, Jr.), crying out for “justice [to] roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream”?

I never liked the tone of this morning’s parable. But Rev. Warner reminded me that Jesus spoke of the ten bridesmaids as he was preparing for a night shortly before his crucifixion, when his own disciples would be separated into the wise and the foolish. The grand speeches of our politicians are often given as they are beginning their “reign” -- they are preparing for a “bright new world” under their own leadership. The Empire of God, on the other hand, will only be met after tremendous trials -- Amos warns that the day of the Lord “is darkness, not light; as if someone fled from a lion, and was met by a bear; or went into the house and rested a hand against the wall, and was bitten by a snake.” (Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?)

Like many Americans, I am hopeful about the next four years. I think most Americans, including our current President Bush, are ready for a change. I am also heartbroken that gay marriage amendments passed in three states. This is not justice. But I also need to remind myself that the American government is not the be all and end all of my life as a Christian. The “great new world” that I am hoping for will not be found in the next four years under the leadership of Barack Obama or John McCain or anybody else. It will be found in the Empire of God, under the leadership of Jesus Christ.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 11/02/08 (Matt. 5:1-12; Rev. 7:9-17)

2008-11-02T18:16:00.000-08:00

“Not Such Glorious Saints”
Matthew 5:1-12; Revelation 7:9-17
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 2 November, 2008
All Saints’ Sunday
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What do we know about “inheritance”? Well, often the word is used to describe money or goods that are passed down from family member to family member. For example, I inherited a bunch of pots and pans from my Great Aunt Mart, and Ben inherited a toaster oven from his parents. Paris and Nicky Hilton will inherit millions (maybe billions) of dollars from the Hilton hotel business. Sometimes inheritance is used to describe certain physical traits or personality characteristics that show themselves throughout a family. For example, “She inherited her mother’s long legs,” or “He inherited his father’s sharp temper.” My dictionary defines “inherit” as: (1.) To come into possession of; (2.) To receive property from a person by legal succession or will; or (3) To receive genetically from an ancestor. So inheritance has something to do with things being passed down from one person to another, usually within a family, and often after death.

Inheritance, in these terms, frequently causes problems. I have known happy families who have been torn apart fighting over inherited goods after a loved one dies. Offspring contest the wills that their parents carefully prepared, and spouses or siblings argue that surely they should receive a better cut of the inheritance! Inheritance, in these terms, has the potential to become nothing but a mess. But it can be a blessing too. I think of my Great Aunt Mart every time I use the pots and pans or the jacket that I inherited after her death. I never knew my grandmother, but I rejoice in the physical characteristics of hers that I inherited, as made clear by photographs or stories that my parents tell me.

On All Saints’ Day we have the opportunity to think more deeply about what we have inherited from our departed loved ones, as we mourn their deaths. Yes, this is what we do in funerals or memorial services too. But anyone who has ever grieved knows that grief does not end the moment you leave the cemetery, and it is important to set aside times to express the grief we continue to feel. There is something special about sharing our grief collectively with one another too. This past year I lost two “grandparents.” You may have lost a sister, a spouse, or even a beloved pet. But the grief we feel is essentially the same, and there is something holy about recognizing it together, in one place. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

So, too, is it important to recognize together all that we have inherited from those who have come before us. We are not speaking primarily here of inheriting brown eyes, long legs, or even pots and pans, although those things may be important to us. We are not even only talking about loved ones we knew personally. We are speaking of the long line of people who showed us how to make the world a better place -- whether they were our Aunt Mart or some glorious saint celebrated throughout history. From these people -- all faithful Christians who have come before us -- we have inherited not only the stories of our Bible, but also the examples of early, and more recent, followers of Christ.

On the more glorious end of things, we have, for example, the 16th century mystics, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila. Saints John and Teresa worked together to found the Carmelite order, and Teresa is known not only for her deeply spiritual writings but also for her leadership as a woman in the Medieval Church.

We have Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, who came to the United States in the 18th century and became a pioneer in health care. She serves as a namesake for many healthcare facilities today, including the hospital where I served as chaplain resident several years ago.

And, while we Protestants may not be familiar with some of these “Catholic examples,” I would venture that most of us are willing to embrace the legacy of Mother Teresa of our own time. Committed to working within the poorest segments of society, Mother Teresa proved herself a 20th century saint through her dedication, her faith, and her sense of humor.

There are many more whose life examples have hopefully given us inspiration and from whom many young people continue to inherit the legacies of faith and good works. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran pastor who risked his life to resist Nazism and embrace his Jewish brothers and sisters. Rosa Parks, who, through her quiet decision to rest her tired legs at the front end of a bus, inspired many to resist segregation and fight for civil rights in this country. Sister Helen Prejean, who works with both the perpetrators of violent crime and with their victims. We have inherited much from these well-known saints.

But sainthood, as we are speaking of it here, is not limited to persons who have volumes written about their lives and whose veneration the whole world will uphold for centuries following their deaths. How many of you know, or have known, saints whose good deeds are perhaps known only to you? A parent from whom you inherited a particular care for the environment? A good friend whose strength empowered you? ... A stranger?

I still recall a young man I met several years ago. We met on a Friday night. My aunt (the same great aunt from whom I inherited those pots and pans) died two days later, and the young man I had met that Friday called just to say hello. When I told him my aunt had just died, he left the party he was attending and came to my house to comfort me. We saw each other a few times after that, but I will never forget his sudden kindness on that night.

These are the saints, and the inheritance, of the church, and these are the ones we are called to remember on All Saint’s Day. They may not be glorious in the same way that an officially canonized saint of the church is. But they are saints in the eyes of God just the same. On All Saints Day we are called to bring forth the memories of these loved ones who have died, or who are no longer in our lives -- those who, through their presence with us over many years or only a few moments, strengthened our faith and taught us the legacy of Christ’s compassion. These are the ones from whom we obtain a holy inheritance. Let us remember to give thanks not only to the persons themselves, but to the God who gave them to us. Now let us pray.

Sermon 10/26/08 (Matthew 23:1-12)

2008-10-27T15:10:00.000-07:00

“Good Words and Bad Behavior”
Matthew 23:1-12
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 26 October, 2008
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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Yesterday I received my official sample ballot in the mail, in preparation for the November 4th elections. In case you haven’t gotten yours yet, the sample ballot has all of the ballot initiatives on it, just like the real ballot will, and it has some facts about the Maryland slots amendment and the voter’s rights amendment.

It was really refreshing to get this dry-as-bones, just-the-facts mailing. It’s the first information I’ve seen in months that is actually impartial! At this point in the election season, it seems like every other piece of “information” out there is strongly biased one way or the other. There are the political ads, which spend more time complaining about the opponent or about how terrible things will be if we don’t vote for this particular thing than they do expounding on the benefits of a candidate or ballot initiative. There are the emails I get from one organization or another. The prerecorded phone calls. Even the “news” stories are biased -- they often tell just one side of the story. I really feel for those people who have not yet made a decision about how they are going to vote, as it is nearly impossible to find plain facts now, amidst all of the information being spewn in the public’s direction.

I am grateful that the elections will be over in a few weeks. Then we will get to live with the results of our votes. If you believe the ads, wonderful changes await us if we vote the “right” way! The presidential candidates promise a better America and a better world. The Maryland candidates and the supporters of the slots initiative promise a better Maryland. I can’t wait until we enter into this great new world where all our troubles will disappear!

And Jesus said, “...Therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach.”

The problem with political campaigns is that it is simply impossible for the candidate to keep all of his or her promises once in office. I do have hope and I do believe in the voting process, but I also know from experience that even the best-meaning politician will say more wonderful things than he or she will actually do.

There’s the humility factor too -- or lack thereof. In the words of Jesus: “They do all their deeds to be seen by others.” It’s the nature of a political campaign to puff oneself up as the savior of a nation. Candidates don’t win by being self-deprecating. Sure, it helps to have famous supporters speak up, so the candidate himself isn’t the only one saying how great he is, but there has to be a fair bit of self-promotion too. The candidate has to say that she is better than her opponent.

Then there’s the servant leadership aspect. Jesus said “The greatest among you will be your servant.” Our national leaders do actually try to stick to this one. President John F. Kennedy said, “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” Of course, when our modern leaders make statements about “serving the American people” they don’t always come across as particularly humble themselves.

So, basically, this morning’s entire gospel lesson could be about American politicians -- their falsehoods, their lack of humility, how they use the concept of “servant leadership” to their own benefit. ...Americans love complaining about politics -- just watch one political ad or see one news story -- and I could direct this entire sermon at “them,” those “horrible” politicians! ...I think you know me better than that, though.

It is so easy to blame other people for our problems, especially when those people have more power than we do. We blame politicians (Liars!), we blame celebrities (Think they’re better than everyone else!)...we even blame preachers (What kind of humble servant wears a $3,000 suit?!). Jesus was talking about rabbis here, and there certainly are some less than humble clergy. But we spend so much time blaming other people that we fail to notice our own failures. (In Jesus’ words, we spend a great deal of time examining the speck in our neighbor’s eye but fail to see the log in our own.) Jesus wasn’t just addressing powerful people here. He was using power-abusing rabbis as an example, but in Matthew’s gospel he was addressing the crowds and his disciples. He was essentially speaking to his Church and its leaders. He was talking, in our modern terms, to the church council, other folks who hold leadership roles, and everyone in the pews. He was -- and is -- warning us all against arrogance and self-exaltation.

As written in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus was specifically referring to arrogance over one’s role as a church leader. But his message can easily be expanded to all areas of life. In these days, church leadership does not carry the weight it once did -- and anyway, our own council president, Alta Horn, does not have an arrogant bone in her body. But there may well be other areas of our lives in which we do not practice what we preach either, in which we like to be called by a fancy title, and in which we believe that we are better than everybody else.

This is something we must all watch carefully. There is nothing wrong with finding success in our careers, but it is easy, then to say, “I have money in my pocket, so I’m better than that person down the street who can’t afford to feed his kids.”

Humility is hard to live by, even in difficult times. We have been speaking a lot about the financial crisis lately, and it may seem obvious that losing one’s job or home would be a humbling experience. But we have to be careful that if we fall into that terribly unfortunate position we do not begin to believe that we are better than “all those snobby people who think they have it all.” Even when our lives are falling apart we find ways to believe that we are better than our neighbor.

The truth is, Jesus Christ has called us to a life of humility no matter what our circumstances. The majority of people in the crowds to whom he spoke were not privileged -- even his disciples were fisherman who lived from day to day. Christ’s earliest followers were persecuted for their beliefs -- they were not in a position of power. Yet Jesus called even these struggling people to a life of humble servanthood. He called on them to remember that they had one parent, their God in Heaven, and one teacher, Jesus himself. Jesus has called us to a life of service, whether we are running for President of the United States or whether we are a homeless person who sees another homeless person in greater need than we are.

As you go about your daily tasks, be ever mindful of where your heart is. Are you looking at the person you’re serving across the counter and thinking: “I’m better than him?” Are you thinking to yourself, “Gee, I sure like being called Reverend...or Doctor...[or whatever title you use]? Do I misuse my title or my position?” Are you saying one thing but doing another? And are you living a life of servanthood?

Following Christ is not easy. Putting God before everything else is hard in our busy world. We will make mistakes. That’s the nature of being humans. But a world in which people go out of their way to serve one another -- in which love for neighbor outweighs self-pride -- will draw us closer to the realm of God.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 10/19/08 (Matthew 22:15-22)

2008-10-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

“Everything Belongs to God”
Matthew 22:15-22
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 19 October, 2008
Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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According to the First Amendment to the United States Constitution, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” This statement has evolved in the American psyche as “separation of church and state,” and we have tended to interpret the concept to fit our own ends. If we believe that the government is infringing on our religious rights, by gosh, we’ll say something about it! (For example, the pastor from Minnesota who recently endorsed a presidential candidate, in defiance of IRS rules for tax exempt churches.) If we feel that the government is trying to violate the anti-establishment cause, then by golly, we’ll speak up! (For example, the many recent court cases protesting the display of the Ten Commandments and other religious memorabilia on public property.)

I believe in the separation of church and state, in part because of the tragedies that have occurred when government and religion have tried to mix too closely. Whether the Church gains too much political power -- the Crusades of the Middle Ages are an example -- or whether the state takes over the Church -- in Soviet Russia, for example, when churches were destroyed and atheism became the state “religion” -- government tends not to mix well with religion.

At first glance, Jesus seems to be espousing a similar philosophy of church vs. state. “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” A clear separation of church and state, right? ...Well, not exactly. The Pharisees and Herodians asked him a trick question and, as usual, Jesus responded with a trick answer.

The Pharisees and Herodians were trying to catch Jesus in a bind, you see. How should he answer their question about paying taxes? If he said, “No, we shouldn’t pay taxes to the emperor” the Pharisees could report him to the Roman authorities. But if he said, “Yes, we should pay taxes” they could accuse him of selling out. Jesus was, after all, revered as the Son of David and some believed he would usher in a new earthly realm, greater even than that of King David. If Jesus was going to be the new king, how could he insist on paying taxes to the current emperor, his perceived rival? But, of course, Roman authorities wouldn’t like the idea of someone trying to usurp the power of the Roman emperor, the caesar. So, trick question.

Our crafty Jesus was used to trick questions, and he was also perfectly capable of providing trick answers. “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s” does not simply mean “pay the IRS and put money in the offering plate too.” When Jesus asked to see the kind of coin used to pay the emperor he was pointing out that the denarius had a picture of the emperor on it. Jewish law prohibits the use of any graven image, so Jewish coins did not have pictures on them. Jesus was basically saying that the Roman coins were worth nothing. In other words, everything belongs to God.

Jesus is saying that God should take precedence over everything else. But is this how we live and act? Despite the First Amendment, church and state tend to get mixed together a fair bit in this country, and we certainly don’t always put God first. Scholar Stanley Hauerwas comments that the Pharisees and Herodians were shocked at Jesus’ answer, but we modern Christians don’t express much amazement at this idea that Jesus has come to usher in God’s reign. We don’t express much amazement about God at all, in fact. Brent Laytham and Michele Clifton-Soderstrom point out that, “We use a passage like today’s to justify living in a kingdom that divides faith and citizenship, and rendering unto each whatever ‘due’ we decide fits at the moment.” According to them “this is a losing proposition.”1

We get caught up with politics and with world leaders and with “the economy” and with a million other things. We get angry about these things, excited about these things, overwhelmed by these things...but we separate our strong feelings about them from our church life. Church is a place we go on Sunday morning, where we hear some prayers and eat some snacks and put in the offering plate what’s left over after gas money and taxes and the cable bill. Church is church, politics is politics, and never the twain shall meet.

Jesus tells us that we’re wrong to make such distinctions. Everything is about God. ...I will repeat that I believe in the separation of church and state, and it is not that sort of separation that Jesus is refuting here. Government has no place in religion, and the Church has no place in government. They are two separate entities. But they are not equal. For those of us who follow Christ, God should be central to everything we do. If we are involved in politics, we should be involved because we believe in God. When we go to the polls on November 4, we should vote for a presidential candidate only after praying about it. We should vote on the Maryland slots initiative based on where we believe Christ would stand on the issue.

Then there’s the economy. In recent weeks I have heard several churches talk about giving their parishioners “a break” from the special offering this month or even from Our Church’s Wider Mission (OCWM), the main fund that supports UCC ministries. People are worried about finances -- why should we pester them with talk of stewardship?! Now, what do you think Jesus’ response would be to that? Certainly, Jesus cares for the hungry and destitute, and if it is literally a matter between providing food for your children today and putting money in the offering plate, choosing to feed your children is a righteous decision. But remember, in today’s scripture Jesus indicates that everything belongs to God. That means that a time of economic crisis is just as good as any for talking about stewardship. This is, in fact, precisely the time to talk about stewardship, because a lot of the money we put in the offering plate supports those who are less fortunate than we are. Our gifts to Neighbors in Need and the money St. Mark’s sends to OCWM will serve people who are worse off than we may ever be.

Everything that we have belongs to God. Pay your bills, yes. Buy groceries and necessities. Pay your taxes (some of that money helps the less fortunate too). We do have to live in this modern world. But do not toss a few coins in the offering plate as an afterthought. If we are to follow the teachings of Jesus, our offerings to God will come first, and our involvement in the world will be based upon our belief in the truth of the Gospel. Faith is time-consuming, it is expensive, it can be exhausting...and isn’t it worth it?

Now let us pray.

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1 Laytham, Brent and Michele Clifton-Soderstrom, “Render Unto God,” Blogging Toward Sunday, 10.13.08. Theolog: The Blog of the Christian Century, http://www.theolog.org/, accessed on 18 October, 2008.

Sermon 10/12/08 (Philippians 4:1-9)

2008-10-12T16:03:00.000-07:00

“Worried about Worry”
Philippians 4:1-9
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 12 October, 2008
Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
What are people worried about these days? ... The economy? ...The war? ...Global warming? ... The elections? This past week the economy has been front and center, the primary (or at least most publicized) cause for worry in our country. Stories about the financial crisis are plastered all over the news and when I’m waiting for the bus or walking around town I overhear conversations from worried citizens. What does the bailout mean? Are we heading toward a Great Depression? Will I be okay?

The “unknown” of it makes the economy an especially easy target for worry warts. I’m no economist, but even the people who are best versed in economics cannot entirely predict what will happen with the market. “The market” has a life of its own, based on the millions of people who make it tick. All we -- including the most high-powered investors -- know is how it looks at this particular moment and what the experts tell us about what this might mean. And at this particular moment we’re worried. Will life as we know it be pulled out from under our feet? We see home foreclosures and businesses closing and a higher rate of unemployment and banks failing. We break out in a cold sweat when we imagine where we could be headed.

We worry about the war and all the things attached to it. We worry about our planet and how poorly we have cared for it. We worry about the elections, and the thought that things could get even worse if [insert name of the candidate you don’t want] wins.

Then we have all our personal worries. We worry about our health, about our loved ones, about our relationships, about our flower garden, about how to tell our neighbor to turn down that annoying music without invoking too much of his wrath.

Even if every one of these things was somehow miraculously resolved -- the war over, the planet healthy, the economy back on its feet, our relationships perfect -- we would think of new things to worry about. That’s just how a lot of us are.

“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”

....Oops! Two thousand years ago the Apostle Paul put out a little memo telling his followers not to worry. I don’t know about you, but I somehow missed that memo! All this time I’ve been worrying, which means I’ve been disobeying the instructions of this Christian leader, which must mean I have been sinning...and Oh, God, now I’m worried! What will become of me?! My pulse is starting to race just thinking about it! I’ve been worrying! Oh, God forgive me! ...And...oh, no, I’m doing it again! I’m worrying!

...Of all the commandments and instructions and lessons in the Bible, the ones about worrying are among the most difficult for me to follow. Jesus admonishes against worrying in both the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, and even when the words come from Jesus himself I am not much better at following them.

Here, in some of the closing words to his letter to the church at Philippi, the Apostle Paul mentions worrying as one among several final instructions to this church that is close to his heart. It is apparent that some disagreements have arisen in the church, because Paul reminds two female church leaders to be “of the same mind in Christ.” He encourages members of the church to keep on doing the good work they have been doing...and not to worry in the process. Getting along with one another seems easy compared to not worrying, as far as I’m concerned. Doing the hard work of founding a Christian community seems easy compared to not worrying.

So, how do we go about it? How do we find that “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” and which is to guard our hearts? How do we “let go and let God”? How do we respond to this beautiful, yet worrisome, piece of scripture? I will say first that letting go of our worries does not mean forgetting about the concerns of the world. Yes, the economy is in turmoil right now. Yes, the Iraq war has been going for five years with no end in sight. Yes, the earth is unhealthy. Yes, the results of the presidential elections will bring change. We do have personal struggles. We have health problems, relationship issues, concerns at work. Our troubles will not suddenly go away if we stop worrying. ...But here’s the thing. Our problems will not get any better just because we worry about them either. In fact, I have been known to let a problem get worse because I worry so much about it that I become paralyzed and don’t do anything about the issue.

Why do you think Paul, and Jesus, tell us not to worry? We will certainly enjoy life more if we worry less. Some people argue that worrying means that we are doubting God. That may be true. But I think another real reason our Lord calls upon us to stop worrying is that when we worry we waste time that could be spent doing real work: praying, caring for those in need, worshiping God. When we worry we are less able to do those things to which we have been called as Christians. When we worry -- when our minds, bodies, and spirits tense up to the point of paralysis -- we are not able to, in Paul’s words, “keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen.”

Do I believe that God is with us when we worry? Of course. Do I believe that God embraces us as we worry? Yes, I believe that God cares whenever God’s people are in distress. This is certainly true in the case of those who suffer from diagnosable anxiety disorders, whose “worry” is more the result of a chemical reaction in the body than it is a response to a life situation. That said, I believe that worry itself -- outside the realm of psychological conditions -- is a waste of time -- both ours and God’s.

Prayer is one way that we can try to decrease our worries. Prayer is never wasteful. Other simple stress management techniques, like taking deep breaths, exercising, doing yoga, getting enough sleep can help alleviate worry too. Talking our worries out with a friend or loved one -- therapists are always good too, of course -- may help.

Working to change the things about which we are worrying is important too. Worried about the economy? Help those who are worse off than you. Worried about the war? Protest it, or send care packages to service men and women, or do something. Worried about the election? Vote, for heaven’s sake! As for personal problems, take care of your body as well as you can. Nurture your relationships. Find a skillful way to ask your neighbor to turn down his radio.

Doing these things will not necessarily change the course of the world immediately. But doing something will help alleviate your worries. And, more importantly, it will make God’s world a better place.

There may be those among you who do not worry a whole lot -- my mother is blessed with that ability -- but I know that the rest of us find plenty to worry about these days. Take a deep breath and start doing something about your worries. Let’s start with prayer.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 10/05/08 (Matthew 22:1-14)

2008-10-08T19:05:00.000-07:00

“The Entire Ugly, Beautiful World”
Matthew 22:1-14
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 5 October, 2008
Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
World Communion Sunday
----
I have worshiped in a lot of churches. I was baptized in a Congregational UCC church in Littleton, New Hampshire. I attended a Lutheran church in Fargo, North Dakota for about two years. Then there’s the UCC church I attended most of my years growing up in Fargo. There’s the church I attended in college, the churches I served as a seminary intern, the church I served in Sacramento, California, and, of course, St. Mark’s.

Then there are all of the churches I have attended as a visitor. When I travel I enjoy visiting churches, and I have worshiped in a number of sanctuaries throughout the United States. I have also had some opportunities to travel overseas, and I especially remember worshiping in a Russian Orthodox church for Easter in St. Petersburg and in a Protestant church in Ireland during my honeymoon.

All of these churches are of varying sizes, worship styles, theologies, cultural backgrounds, denominations. And, oh! the variety of Christians within them! In some of these churches I got to know the members quite well. The church in which I was raised, for example, provided me with many close friends. I have nurtured a pastoral relationship with members of the churches that I have served. But then there are the hundreds of people who I may have met for 30 seconds during the one time I worshiped with that congregation. They are Christian faces that essentially just flashed before my eyes -- a blink of Christian humanity.

This morning I -- and all of you -- are joining together with every one of those Christ-worshipers to celebrate the Lord’s Supper. On this World Communion Sunday we are gathering together with members of the UCC church in Dittmer, Missouri where I was an intern pastor and with the Russian Orthodox church in St. Petersburg, Russia that I walked past every day for months but only worshiped in once, and partaking of the Eucharist. We will do so in different ways -- every UCC church does communion a little differently, much less our Orthodox, and Methodist, and Lutheran, and Disciples of Christ, and Catholic, and Presbyterian brothers and sisters. It will mean different things for the Orthodox than it will for the Presbyterian. But it will be the same meal, celebrated in the spirit of Christian unity.

“The king said, ‘Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ [They] went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.”

In this morning’s scripture a king is prepared to give a wedding banquet, and he sends his slaves to retrieve the invited guests. The guests apparently didn’t like what was on the menu, because they refused to come. Some of them were so offended at the invitation that they actually killed the slaves that had sent for them. The king retaliated with his own violence -- one of the many pieces of violence that we tend to miss when reading our scriptures. But then we get to the part of this scripture that we all remember: the grand invitation to any ragtag group of people that can be found on the streets. Matthew describes this new group of invitees as “both good and bad.”

What an interesting wedding party! The king invited bad people to his wedding. Sure, they were among the only people he could find, but that doesn’t take away much from the fact that they were invited.

On this World Communion Sunday, I think back to the people I have met in all the churches I have visited. There have surely been a collection of “both good and bad” among them. There are those who I have grown to know and love. There have also, I am ashamed to say, been a few people that I simply could not stand. There was the terrible conflict in the church in which I was raised, and I am not on speaking terms with some of those people. Then there are, again, all of those churches I have visited once. Surely there must be some truly wonderful people who are on their way to sainthood -- the simple and loving way that I have been greeted in some of these churches shows me that there are many goodhearted people. There are also, most likely, some who are less reputable. I have probably attended church with money embezzlers, people who commit acts of domestic violence, maybe even members of the Russian mafia, along with all the people who are just a little annoying.

Here’s the thing: We are all invited to this World Communion Sunday banquet today. We are all invited to the table, “both good and bad.” There are churches that may deny communion to certain folks, but we are not one of those churches. We’ll take ‘em all, every single Christian who wants to be here, the whole ugly, beautiful world. It’s a scary concept, thinking of some of the people with whom we may be communing today. But it’s marvelous too. We are not welcome here because we are good. We are welcome here because we believe that Jesus is our Savior. It would be lovely if we could just stop here, as one happy, dysfunctional Christian family gathered around an enormous table for a feast as big as the world. But there’s that pesky little ending bit of our morning’s scripture. As much as I would like to forget it’s there I cannot.

After the king makes his grand invitation, one would think he could put up with someone not adhering to exact wedding dress code. But when he notices a guest who is not wearing proper wedding attire he commits another one of those forgotten acts of violence in Matthew. “The king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’” This guest doesn’t merely get asked to go home and change, or even simply thrown out onto the street. Instead, he is tossed into hell itself, he has so offended his host!

What do we do with this? What happened to “invite everybody”?! What happened to our interpretation that “all are welcome”?! Scholars have struggled with this for centuries. But a general consensus is that, while everyone is invited, they are still expected to be prepared.

If we look at this story as an allegory, the king is, of course, God, and we are the guests -- the good and the bad, the ugly and beautiful, all of humanity. This story is not specifically speaking about communion -- in fact one scholar suggests that Matthew is speaking of baptism -- but the invitation to a “banquet” certainly works as a communion metaphor. We at St. Mark’s believe that everyone is always invited to the table, whether it’s World Communion Sunday or just any old day. After all, it’s God’s table, not ours. But while we invite everyone, we do ask one thing of them. We say that the table is open to “anyone who professes Christ as Lord.” We do actually expect you to believe in Christ in order to share this meal with us. Now, this doesn’t mean that you have to be rock-solid certain about your faith at every moment -- if we did not allow doubters to join us very few of us would be able to partake. We also do not require you to understand everything about communion -- we call it a mystery for a reason. This, by the way, is why I believe children should be allowed to receive communion -- the Eucharist is a mystery to us regardless of age. But we do expect you to say, “Yes, I believe in Jesus Christ.”

We expect something else of you too. We expect you to take this meal seriously and to approach the table with a contrite heart. Whether you are “good or bad” today, we ask that you set aside your sins and your saintliness and come here in humility. Don’t just say the words in the communion booklet and snack on some bread and grape juice. Pray these words and feast on the body and blood of Christ, or the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation. This is a very joyful meal, but it is solemn too. Take it seriously.

When you gather at this table today with Christians from around the world, your wedding garment will be your profession of faith and your sense of wonder at this love feast. You are invited; please “dress” appropriately. Jeans and a t-shirt are fine, as long as you take this shindig seriously.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 09/28/08 (Matthew 21:23-32)

2008-09-30T17:36:00.000-07:00

“Practicing, Not Preaching”
Matthew 21:23-32
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 28 September, 2008
Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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It drives me crazy when certain people talk about family values. Don’t get me wrong. I believe strongly in the importance of family values, of course. But that’s just it. There are groups of people in this country who use “family values” as a catch phrase to mean that they are against abortion and gay marriage....but that’s as far as “family values” goes for them. They preach “family values” when it comes to those two hot-button issues but do not spend nearly as much time or energy or money on providing support for struggling new mothers or victims of domestic violence, nor do they seem to care much about helping married couples who are going through a rough patch -- divorce is okay, as long as it is between a man and a woman. They scream “family values” and present themselves as better Christians and human beings than anyone else on the planet, but their actions say something else entirely.

These are like the second son in this morning’s gospel. They say one thing but do another. The second son in Jesus’ parable made a promise to help his father, but he did not act on his promise. These particular “family values” folks complain that the American family is falling apart, but they do not actually do much about it.

I don’t really understand how the minds of these folks work. I don’t know if “family values” really does mean only “anti-abortion” and “marriage between a man and a woman” to them, or if they start out with a broader view of “the American family” than that but then get stuck on those two issues. There are certainly other people who preach “family values” but mean something beyond abortion and gay marriage. While I may not agree with all of their beliefs I can at least respect them. I have a difficult time respecting people who use a catch-phrase only as a weapon against people, tearing down but doing little to build up in return.

Then there are the “first sons” in our world -- the ones who initially present themselves as the ornery teenager who won’t do what they’re told...but then go on to do the right thing.

For the past several weeks we have been lifting my friend Richard up in prayer. Richard, you may recall, is in prison in Texas and was recently denied parole. I grieve his parole denial because he is a good example of the first son from our parable.

Richard and I have been writing to each other for more than six years now, and he has been in prison that entire time. In fact, he was in prison for several years before we began corresponding. He will be the first to tell you that he had a very troubled youth. He was involved with the wrong crowd and he did some things of which he is not at all proud. He was convicted of a serious crime, and he readily admits now that he committed that crime.

If Richard had a vineyard owner for a father, he would probably have laughed in his dad’s face when asked to help with the work. I believe that now, however, Richard would jump at the chance to help a family member or anyone else. He would run into that vineyard before being asked and would do as much as he could. Many years have passed since Richard was a juvenile delinquent growing up on the streets of Los Angeles, and in the years that I have known him he has shown me nothing but a good heart. He has been a good friend to me, writing kind words when I going through a difficult time and sharing laughs. My only problem with him is that he is a fan of the Los Angeles Lakers.

Richard is not just a good friend to me. A couple of years ago he was asked to serve as a peer educator to other inmates, teaching them about HIV/AIDS prevention. He underwent training in preparation for this and has taught classes for several years. He does not have HIV or AIDS and he was not previously an expert on the subject, but his status as a fellow inmate makes it a lot more likely that his students will listen to him than if an outsider were to teach the class.

Richard has become a devout Christian while in prison, and our conversations about faith are among my favorite aspects of our friendship. A couple of years ago he began working full time for the prison chaplain’s office. He is also involved with several outside ministries that both provide him with spiritual support and give him opportunities to serve.

Which of these examples is the better one? The Christian who preaches “family values” but does not practice them...or the “bad” kid who did everything wrong but has spent most of his time behind bars trying to reconstruct his life and help others? Which of these examples is the better one? The one who preaches vehemently but doesn’t practice? Or the one who failed his family and society but is making up for it?

We all know people who say they are going to do one thing but do another. It drives me crazy when people do this -- be they politicians or personal friends. However, I am ashamed to say that I, too, have made promises that I have not kept. We know people who portray themselves as one thing when they are really another. There are probably areas in which I am guilty of this too.

Then there are the “first sons” -- the people we figure are good for nothing...until they do something marvelous and outshine us as Christians and as human beings.

Who would you rather be? Of course, the goal is to be a “third son” -- one who says that he will do the right thing and immediately does it. One who presents himself as a humble but kind Christian and actually comes across that way in the way he lives. I know a few people like this -- the Mother Teresas and Gandhis of the world -- but the truth is that most of us are pretty fallible. We are either in the process of making mistakes or recovering from the mistakes that we have made. We are the tax collectors and sinners that Jesus held close to his heart. We are the ones that are in need of redemption. We may not have committed crimes that could send us to prison and we may not be preaching something that we have no intention of practicing. Still, we are in need of grace. That grace is available to us -- yes, even if we are spending years in prison -- if we are willing to swallow our pride, repent, and begin acting like the human beings God has called us to be.

I beseech you, then, to search your souls and find the broken spots. They can be mended. You can go back and do some of those things you promised to do but never did. Even in cases where you cannot go back, you can begin to make up for your past wrongdoing by doing good things right now.

Whatever you do, seek God’s grace...but know that it precedes you. Jesus embraced sinners before you committed your first sin, and Christ will embrace you.

Now let us pray.

Sermon 09/21/08 (Matthew 20:1-16)

2008-09-30T17:34:00.000-07:00

“It’s Not Always About What’s Fair”
Matthew 20:1-16
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 21 September, 2008
Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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I have never been very good at sports. When I was growing up I hated playing competitive games in gym class, because I was always one of the last ones picked to be on a team. In addition to my awkwardness on the ball field, I was not one of the popular kids, so those classmates who were higher on the social ladder were even less likely to pick me. They knew I wouldn’t increase their chances of winning the game and I was a nerd, so I didn’t have much going for me.

Because of these painful experiences in gym class, I will never forget the actions of one of my classmates sophomore or junior year of high school. We were playing softball or something similar, and I didn’t get picked for the team much earlier than I usually did. However, once I was on a team and was up to bat one of my classmates -- one of the popular boys who was good at sports, no less -- began encouraging me. “Keep your eye on the ball,” he instructed kindly. Because of the kindness in his voice, I did, and I actually hit the ball. He continued to encourage me as I ran the bases. I do not remember if I made it “home” and I don’t even remember the boy’s name now. What I do remember is my self-esteem going up a little that day. Here was a guy who knew I was not going to be a great asset to the team, but he treated me like I had something to offer. What an act of grace!

In this morning’s Gospel lesson we hear a similar example of the grace of God. After gathering workers several times throughout the day, a vineyard owner goes out one more time and discovers still more workers standing around waiting to be hired by someone. Like an ungainly high school nerd they were the last to be picked for the team.

We are not told why they were not hired earlier. Scholar Craig Kocher suggests that they might not have had the necessary skills for vineyard work or been familiar with the language. Maybe they weren’t able to get to the location earlier in the day because of an emergency -- a sick family member, a personal injury. Whatever the case, it was an hour before the day’s work would be done and they were still waiting, having gone an entire day without earning a wage. This would be a huge problem for day-laborers in a subsistence society. It may well mean that they would have no food to put on the table for their families. If they went more than one day without working their very survival may be at stake.

Even if some landowner needed last-minute work and hired them at the end of the day, we would expect them to be paid for the amount of time they worked -- i.e., not very much. I don’t know exactly how payment worked in first century Middle Eastern agricultural society, but in modern America we usually speak of being paid by the hour. Minimum wage is based on hourly wages, and it is expected that people will be paid for the amount of time that they have worked. Even salaried positions usually have an expected number of hours that the employee is to work during the week -- it is understood that 40 hours per week is full time for most jobs, but these days an employee may be expected to work more than that. Either way, the more time a person works the more they get paid.

Clearly, that is what the workers first to be hired in this morning’s scripture story were expecting. They were told that they would receive the usual daily wage, sure, but when the workers who had been hired later in the day got paid that wage, the first ones to be there expected more. When they didn’t get it, they were understandably upset. Those of us who have worked very hard for an hourly wage are probably upset right along with them. “It isn’t fair!” we want to whine to that mathematically-impaired vineyard owner.

Well, to use one of my least favorite parental phrases, “Life isn’t always fair.” This story is about God, remember, and God isn’t always fair. On the other hand, God is almost always right, and this is one of those times. The vineyard owner may not have acted in a way that made sense to the workers or that makes much sense to us, but he did the right thing. The workers who were first to arrive received the usual daily wage, as promised. This wasn’t a lot -- they lived, as I said, a subsistence lifestyle, which meant that they survived from day to day but would never be able to save anything. With the usual daily wage, they would, however, probably be able to put food on the table for their families that night, to get enough nutrition to get them through the next hard day’s work.

If hired by a less compassionate landowner, those hired later in the day would go home hungry. If they were unable to afford food, they would be unable to gain strength enough to continue working. They would get picked later and later in the day until they were forced to beg or simply starve to death because they no longer had the physical ability to do hard labor in the fields.

Instead of suffering this dire predicament they were given another chance by a vineyard owner who cared about their survival. They would be able to eat that night, and thus they would be able to work another day. While probably never able to escape the poverty that day-laborers faced in first-century Palestine (and continue to face today in our country), they would be able to escape starvation for another day.

I can clearly hear the voice of some modern American radio commentator complaining that these latecomers were just “given handouts.” They were clearly lazy bums who would begin to expect such handouts and sit on their lazy behinds eating out of other people’s pockets.

The closest analogy to the day-laborers of our Gospel is probably migrant workers who come up from Mexico or other nations South of the border to work in the American heartland. I have heard people immediately label all of these workers “illegals” (even if they entered the United States legally) and complain that all they’re doing here is trying to get rich off of “our” tax dollars. I have also seen the hard work that immigrant day-laborers do for very, very little pay.

Another easy correlation to this morning’s scripture is anyone who benefits from the welfare system. There are welfare recipients who work several minimum wage jobs but are still unable to pay their meager bills. There are others who are disabled and truly unable to work. Others struggle to find affordable childcare. When they are unable to do so they either choose not to work, knowing that this may mean they will be unable to feed their children, or they leave their children home alone and are promptly labeled “evil child neglecters” by people who do not know their situation. Others have simply made mistakes or faced misfortunes in life -- legal troubles, addictions, broken homes, bad financial decisions, etc. -- and are struggling to get back on their feet. Regardless of the circumstances, they are labeled “lazy,” told to “get a job” (even if they already have one), and people complain that all “these people” are doing is stealing the taxes of “good Americans who actually work.” I do not often hear the viewpoint of the grace-filled vineyard owner on our airwaves.

Our God is not like that. The God we worship believes that each and every one of us, regardless of our contribution to the workforce, is worthy of grace. One could argue, in the vein of our Gospel lesson, that our God also believes every human being deserves a living wage and the ability to put food on the table. Every person, from the star of the high school football team to the illegal immigrant, to the selfless missionary, to the person facing life without parole was created in the image of God. In turn, every one of us is worthy of God’s grace.

Let us find comfort in this. Let us try to emulate it. And let us pray.

Sermon 09/14/08 (Exodus 14:19-31)

2008-09-15T17:56:00.000-07:00

“The Cost of Freedom”
Exodus 14:19-31
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 14 September, 2008
Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
This weekend we are particularly aware of the power of water. The news is filled with stories and pictures of the destruction left by Hurricane Ike. On Friday authorities warned that “certain death” awaited anyone who did not heed the orders to evacuate. While it appears that many of those who stayed behind survived the brunt of the storm, there was one point on the coast that was hit by a 15 foot wall of water. The fate of anyone standing in its wake could only have been “certain death.”

The storm has begun to pass but flood waters remain, and thousands of people in the area are clamoring for rescue. Those who cannot be rescued, or who still choose to stay behind, face the distinct possibility of drowning.

"So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and at dawn the sea returned to its normal depth. As the Egyptians fled before it, the Lord tossed the Egyptians into the sea.
The waters returned and covered the chariots and the chariot drivers, the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea; not one of them remained.
But the Israelites walked on dry ground through the sea, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left.
Thus the Lord saved Israel that day from the Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore. "

This is one of the most recognizable stories in our Bible. Moses parts the Red Sea and the evil Egyptian slavemasters drown, while the Israelites remain safe. We can immediately picture a powerful-looking Charlton Heston raising his hand and commanding the sea or numerous other movie scenes or paintings.

Artistic renderings of Moses parting the Red Sea show a tremendously VIOLENT event. The formerly enslaved Israelites walk across dry land in triumph, but then the Egyptians and their horses are thrown violently into the water to drown. As the Egyptians get stuck in the mud, the water rises around them, similar to those stuck in the floods of Southern Texas. No wall of water comes crashing down upon them, but the end result is their deaths nonetheless.

We are supposed to celebrate this event. I’m pretty sure I sang about it in Sunday School, and we might even have acted the scene out in Vacation Bible School when I was growing up. But now that I am grown up I am shocked by it, especially as I pore over of pictures of hurricane devastation.

I realize that the story of the Israelites’ escape has been hailed for centuries by other victims of slavery. African slaves who had converted to Christianity saw it as a sign that God was on the side of the oppressed rather than their slaveowners. It was a sign for them that God would one day help them to be free.

I realize, too, that victims of slavery -- the Israelites, the Africans who were brought to America and elsewhere, and slaves in every culture, from ancient times to the present, are victims of violence. Many are physically abused, sexually abused, emotionally abused, some even violently killed. Even those who are treated well by their “masters” are still considered the property of another human being and that, in itself, is violence.

I am currently reading the historical novel _Chesapeake_ by James Michener. The book begins in the early 17th century, when settlers were just arriving in North America. As farms were established labor was required, and slaves were brought from Africa and indentured servants from England. The indentured servants were considered the property of their masters until their time of court-ordered servitude was past, and sometimes they were treated even worse than the slaves. I recently got through a part in the book in which an indentured servant hits his master over the head with a shovel and leaves him for dead, before escaping. While I cheered his freedom to some extent (the character is a notorious thief), I struggled with the violent means by which he got it. Even when the most deserving slaves escape their evil masters, I wince at the acts of violence sometimes used to attain such aims.

So, where is the balance? Is it ever okay to use violence (even God’s violence) to achieve one’s ends? Can we rightfully cheer the violent death of the Egyptians in the Sea of Reeds, since they are the oppressors and the Israelites had suffered under them for so long? Can we cheer when slaves (fictional or real) commit acts of violence while attempting to gain freedom?

One article I read this past week mentioned this dilemma briefly but said flat-out that it wasn’t the point. The article, on the UCC web site, notes that “This wasn't one army against another, however outnumbered and outgunned. This was a ragtag group of impoverished ex-slaves escaping their captors not by their own strength or wits or organizational skills or strategic planning, but by the power of God.”1 Most articles I read focused either on the power of God or the marvelous gift of freedom. I, too, marvel at these things, particularly the gift of freedom to an oppressed people.

While I have never been oppressed in the way that the Israelites were and while I have never known the oppression of racism experienced by African Americans, I have heard first-hand stories of racial oppression and read about the desperation of the Israelites. There are terrible stories of cruelty, and the idea of believing that you can own someone boggles my mind. Still, I get caught up on the violence.

With the images of innocent Texans caught in the hurricane fresh in my mind, I imagine the horror of the Egyptian soldiers as they realize they are going to die. I struggle with the idea that God, Creator of humankind, would choose to kill God’s own creations. Of course, this is not the only place in our scriptures where we see this. In the story of the Great Flood, God saves Noah and his family but wipes out the rest of “evil humanity.” At the end of that saga, however, God promises that it will not happen again. Does the fact that the Egyptians did not worship the God of the Israelites factor into God’s willingness to kill them? I struggle with that too.

I do not have an answer to these questions. If I were enslaved and my only opportunity for freedom was to commit violence against my captor, would I do it? Most likely, yes. Would I feel guilty about it? I honestly don’t know. If someone I knew personally was kidnapped and their only chance of escape was to commit violence against their kidnapper, would I chastise them for it? I cannot imagine doing so. But as I sit here, a free woman, the question lingers. How can a loving God kill even the most vile of God’s Creation? Are they not worthy of redemption?

Is it a double standard when I (and many people) believe that violence committed against bad people can be an act of God, while the violence and destruction of a hurricane, and the subsequent suffering of millions of innocent people, is not? --that I believe God frees the oppressed but does not cause the suffering of the innocent?

I have more questions than answers this morning, but perhaps that is not a bad thing. We are called as people of faith to wrestle with the concerns that face our world. My prayer is that you will struggle with these things too -- that you will celebrate the freedom of the oppressed but also question stories describing the violence required to gain that freedom.

I believe in a loving God. I also believe in a powerful God who deplores oppression in all its forms. I cannot always reconcile those two. So I prayerfully wrestle. So, I pray, will you.

Now let us pray.

--
1 Sermon Seeds. September 14, 2008, Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Exodus 14:19-31. http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/september-14-2008-twenty-four.html. Accessed 09/13/08.

Sermon 09/07/08 (Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20)

2008-09-15T17:52:00.000-07:00

“The Substance of Church Membership”
Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 7 September, 2008
Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
----
The day is finally here! In a little while we will welcome five new members into the official community of St. Mark’s United Church of Christ. Mary, Patti, Sue, Danny, and Timmy are already baptized Christians. Timmy was raised Methodist. Patti and Mary were Catholic. Sue has been both Catholic and Methodist. Danny, as we know, was baptized in our very own UCC. But when we are baptized, we are not baptized Catholic or Methodist or UCC or Presbyterian or Lutheran or anything else. We are baptized Christian, we are members of the family of Jesus Christ. This means that these five people were already our sisters and brothers in Christ. They have belonged to this church, the community of St. Mark’s for many months too. But when they stand before us this morning to reaffirm their baptisms and accept membership into this church, and we extend to them “the hand of Christian fellowship” and present them with membership certificates, we will be formalizing the relationship, recognizing them for the commitment they have already shown to our little church.

In the past months I have already talked with them, and we have talked as a larger congregation, about what church membership is all about. We have talked about discipleship, the importance of serving the church and possible ways to serve. We have talked about the history of the United Church of Christ and what the UCC is all about today. We have shared meals together, and the new folks have been introduced to recipes that have been shared in this congregation for many years. We have gotten to know each other and, I hope, to like each other.

But we haven’t talked a lot about the other “L” word yet: “Love.” It’s nice to like the person sitting in the pew next to you. It’s pleasant to be friends with your fellow church members. But liking our church friends isn’t really (or shouldn’t be) the reason we’re here. Love is the basis not only for church membership, but for Christianity itself. God sent Jesus Christ to us because God loved us, and the primary message that Jesus brought was one of love. The word “love” occurs 301 times in the New Testament. It occurs some 458 times in the Old Testament. That’s a lot of love! Whether we are speaking of God’s love for us, our love for God, God’s love for God’s Son, Christ’s love for us, our love for Christ, or our love for one another, the word is everywhere.

Most of the places where love is mentioned in our scriptures, it is referring not to ooey-gooey, Valentine’s Day, hearts-and-flowers, romantic love -- known in the Greek as “eros” or “philia” love. Instead, it’s referring to “agape” love, the kind of love that is divine, self-sacrificing, unconditional. This is how we are commanded to be in relationship with our fellow human beings on this planet. We are to love them unconditionally, be willing to make sacrifices for them, love them as much as God loves us (or at least as close as we can get). It is love like this that is the real substance, not just of church membership, but of Christian life.

Indeed, in our reading this morning from Romans, the Apostle Paul tells us that we are obligated to love one another. He reminds his listeners of the commandments and tells them that loving one’s neighbor is the fulfillment of the law itself.
Even though this passage from Romans has been around for a very long time, we’re not accustomed to thinking about love in this way. People fall in love -- they don’t just love someone because they have an obligation to do so...right? We are taught that “you can’t help who you love” and that, in turn, you can’t help it if you no longer love someone. ...But here it is: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.”

“Love” here represents action more than it represents a beating heart. Paul suggests that “love does no harm to a neighbor.” Therefore, we are obligated to do no harm to one another.

This should be obvious, especially when we’re talking about loving our fellow church members. Church folks are members of a family, right, and you’re not supposed to harm members of your family. But, unfortunately, church life isn’t always that easy. Anyone who has ever had a relationship of any kind with another human being knows that relationships aren’t easy, and “doing no harm” isn’t always easy either.

Life at St. Mark’s seems pretty blissful, relationship-wise. In the two years I have been here I have not seen a whole lot of conflict; people seem to get along fairly well. Those of you who are joining this morning have been around even less time than I have, and unless I am not privy to some underlying conflicts, St. Mark’s is a pretty easy-going church. But I can guarantee you that members who have been around here for decades have seen conflicts arise. I have been in other churches that have split over one disagreement or another, and in these situations any thought of Christian love -- doing no harm -- can go flying out the window.

At times like these, when brothers and sisters in Christ fall into disagreement, we can pull out this morning’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew. Here Jesus essentially teaches his followers effective and healthy conflict resolution skills: When you become angry at another member of the church (sometimes translated: “another brother or sister”), try to work the matter out between the two of you first. If that doesn’t work, bring in witnesses, and if there is still no resolution bring the matter before the whole church. ...Now, this scripture must be dealt with carefully, as it can be misused. I read a story this week about a senior pastor who used the scripture to indicate that a conflict with his associate pastor should stay between the two of them; by using the scripture in this manner he hoped to avoid taking responsibility for the wrong he had committed against her. (He conveniently left out the rest of the scripture, in which the offended person can bring in witnesses and ultimately bring the issue to the entire congregation.) But I believe that Jesus’ intent was to point out the fact that yes, disagreements will erupt within the community, and that they can be dealt with in such a way as to avoid doing harm. Just about any counselor will tell you that the key to healthy relationships is conflict resolution, and this was Jesus’ way of teaching it to his followers.

It is certainly my hope that life at St. Mark’s will be conflict-free, but in those inevitable times when it is not I encourage you to remember both Paul’s words, that we are called to do no harm to one another, and the words of Jesus, that we are called to resolve conflicts in a healthy manner. I suspect that if more churches were reminded of (and chose to follow) these words, there would be less hurt and fewer splits.

Being in Christian community is hard, but it can have tremendous rewards, not just heavenly either. First, we do often make good friends in the church, and church can be just plain fun. Second, we are surrounded by a community that can help us in times of trouble. And third, but most importantly, we have a place to worship and praise God together.

Now let us do so with prayer!

Sermon 08/31/08 (Matthew 16+21-28)

2008-09-15T08:37:00.000-07:00

“What is Your Cross?”
Matthew 16:21-28
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 31 August, 2008
Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
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In my April newsletter article, I mentioned that my little sister was in the cast of “Jesus Christ Superstar” several years ago and that one of her roles in the show was to nail Jesus’ body to the cross. I noted that it was hard for me to watch my sister play the part. That was putting it mildly. I saw the show more than once, and every time I watched this powerful scene I cringed. My little sister...was nailing Jesus...to the cross. Of course, I knew that Rochelle was not really a Roman soldier, and I knew that “Jesus” was only an actor. But the scene touched me, and it was horrifying to even consider the idea of Jesus suffering -- at the hand of my little sister, no less!

...Now imagine the scene from this morning’s Gospel reading. Jesus had been spending time with his disciples, teaching them and preaching to the multitudes. In scenes that appear shortly before this morning’s reading, Jesus feeds four thousand people with only a few loaves of bread and heals many people from their ailments. Then, suddenly, the mood changes.

In the scriptures we have heard over the last several weeks this miracle-performing Jesus has turned from a miracle-worker into an ornery curmudgeon with nothing but harsh words to say. He even snaps rudely at a woman who begs him to heal her daughter!

This morning, this dark shift in our Gospel story comes to a head when Jesus gathers his disciples to him and begins to tell them that he will undergo great suffering and, indeed, be killed. ...He will what?! Yes, the disciples heard right. He will undergo great suffering and be killed. Can you imagine what horrifying words these are to hear from one’s leader, from one’s teacher and mentor?! If I cringed to watch my sister nailing “Jesus” to the cross, I can only imagine the reaction of Jesus’ disciples when they were about to witness the real thing!

Considering the horror the disciples must have felt, Jesus’ response to Peter seems a little cruel. When Peter calls Jesus aside and rebukes him for revealing these horrifying things, Jesus refers to him as “Satan” and condemns him. Scathing words toward a protégé who has just learned his mentor will endure great suffering and die soon! ...And yet Jesus is not finished. He goes on, calls his disciples and a crowd to him and continues. He tells them that they must deny themselves, that they must take up their cross and follow, that they must lose their whole lives in order to gain the world.

The disciples knew discipleship was hard, but their ears must have been ringing with this double-whammy of a narrative -- “I’m going to suffer greatly, be rejected, and die. Oh, and by the way, you’ll need to endure something pretty similar if you want to really follow me.”

Two thousand years later, we do not hear Jesus’ words any more clearly. We hear the foretelling of Jesus’ death with the knowledge that Jesus will suffer horrible humiliation, but we also know that that his death will be followed by his Resurrection. It is with this knowledge that we can hear the frightening stories of how Jesus suffered and died on the cross.

But when we hear Jesus’ call to action, it is more difficult to hear the words. “Take up your cross and follow me.” We tend to hear the words as a flowery little metaphor -- “follow Jesus, for Jesus loves you.” Or we may hear the words and shudder to recall recent misuse of Jesus’ words -- in abusive cult situations, for example, where leaders like David Koresh draw their followers unto death. Either way, the words do not really ring true. Even when we do actually hear the words, our modern American culture renders it almost impossible to consider the idea of “denying ourselves.” We live in a nation of excess, and “self-denial” is not a term that fits in our vocabulary. What does it mean to “take up our cross” anyway?

I spoke last week about sacrifice, but the sacrifices Jesus asks his disciples to take here go deeper than merely the sacrifice of our time or energy. We sometimes associate “taking up our cross” or making the sacrifices Jesus asks of his disciples with Lent, and indeed the scripture we heard today is frequently read during the Lenten season. But often our Lenten sacrifices only last those 40 days. What Jesus is asking of his disciples is lifelong sacrifice. This is hard for us. Our modern American sensibilities are not tuned in to this kind of a sacrificial lifestyle. To give up everything that we have, to give up those things which we find pleasurable but which are, in fact, unnecessary either for life or for the service of God, is unthinkable to us. Like Peter, our minds tend to be very much on human things rather than on the divine. We can barely comprehend the idea of Jesus’ suffering, much less our own. It’s hard to deny ourselves!

Biblical scholar Lamar Williamson points out, however, that Jesus calls us not to deny ourselves of some thing but rather to deny self. There is a difference. Williamson argues that denying ourselves merely of things can make us self-righteous, because “the self can ride as comfortably on a bicycle as in a limousine.” Denying the self does not mean self-hatred but rather a denial of the grasping self in order to liberate the greater self.

But how can we, as modern American Christians, understand what it means to “take up the cross,” to deny self and follow Jesus? Scripture is intricate, and there is much debate over what it means to “take up one’s cross.” Yet surely it means, at the very least, the willingness to endure suffering for the sake of another. When we hear the call to “take up our cross,” we can picture Jesus carrying, dragging, his heavy wooden cross through the streets, enduring the struggle with the object that would bring his death, but then lead to his resurrection and new life.

When we picture this image, we may wince, as I did when I watched my sister “nailing” an actor to a stage-built cross. But perhaps we can also draw nearer to discerning our own cross, that object of heaviness that will draw us and the world closer to freedom and life eternal. It is not the cross itself that will draw us to divine things. Jesus was not holy simply because he died on the cross. Rather, he was holy, in part, because of what he was willing to give up, what he was willing to sacrifice for the world.

So, what is your cross? What is the cross you must take up in order to follow Jesus? And are you willing to bear it?

Those who went to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina (and who may go after this current hurricane season), and those who work for peace in the Middle East, know that they will not be comfortable and that they may not return in one piece. But there are other ways of discipleship, and there are other kinds of suffering. There are many ways to “take up the cross.” The call to discipleship is as diverse as Creation. The crosses that we take up are those things that draw us closer to the realm of God. They may involve deep suffering, personal pain, and possibly even death. The suffering is not, in itself, divine, but the hope that comes from our willingness to deny self will draw us nearer to the One who calls.

...Jesus’ suffering was real, and it is a painful reminder of his humanity. Like Peter, we may momentarily dwell on this human aspect and struggle to move on to the divinity of his call. Yet rebuke us, he does, and his rebuke carries with it a great hope. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “the cross is not the horrible end of a pious, happy life, but stands rather at the beginning of community with Jesus Christ.”

“For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Now let us pray.

Sermon 08/24/08 (Romans 12:1-8)

2008-08-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

“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.

Sermon 08/17/08 (Isaiah 56:1, 6-8)

2008-08-17T13:19:00.000-07:00

“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
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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.

Sermon 08/10/08 (1 Kings 19:9-18)

2008-08-10T14:06:00.000-07:00

“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
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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.

Sermon 08/03/08 (Matthew 14:13-21)

2008-08-03T15:27:00.000-07:00

“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.

Sermon 07/27/08 (Romans 8:26-39)

2008-07-27T15:58:00.000-07:00

“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
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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.

Sermon 07/13/08 (Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23)

2008-07-13T13:48:00.000-07:00

“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
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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

2008-07-13T03:47:00.000-07:00

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
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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.

Sermon 07/06/08 (Zechariah 9:9-12)

2008-07-07T15:33:00.000-07:00

“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
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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.

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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)

2008-07-07T15:29:00.000-07:00

“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
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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.

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1. Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew (Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching) (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993) 170.

Sermon 06/22/08 (Matthew 9:35-10:8)

2008-06-24T10:11:00.000-07:00

“Gospel in a Drowning Land”
Matthew 9:35-10:8
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 22 June, 2008
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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In 1997 Eastern North Dakota and Western Minnesota experienced what they referred to as a 500 year flood. The record snowfall melted too quickly and the spring rains came too hard, and the Red River kept rising. Fargo was hit pretty hard, but the city of Grand Forks, where my father grew up, was the worst. No amount of sandbagging could hold back the rising river. Then, after days of fighting the flood waters, a fire started. Now, you would think that a fire wouldn’t be a big deal when surrounded by so much water. The trouble was, fire crews were unable to make it through the flooded streets. Downtown Grand Forks burned, and a number of buildings were completely destroyed, after already being heavily damaged by the flood. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

I am very grateful that my parents’ house in Fargo was on high enough ground that they only got a little water in the basement. Many houses in Fargo, Grand Forks, and all along the Red River were destroyed. Then there were the farms. Crops that had already been planted were drowned, and there was no hope of planting anything else in the sodden ground. The livelihood of countless farmers was washed away with the flood. The Great Flood of ’97 washed away lives and brought heartache.

Last year Grand Forks marked the 10 year anniversary of the flood with thanksgiving and a new sense of hope. It took a number of years, but the city has come back better than before. Downtown has been rebuilt, the university and the air force base continue to bring in new residents, and Grand Forks is thriving. People of faith are crying “Praise God!”

As people of Eastern North Dakota remember the eleventh anniversary this year, I can only imagine how their hearts are aching as they watch a similar flood drench another part of the Midwest. As we all know, Iowa and other parts of the central United States are enduring catastrophic flooding after a series of tornadoes and relentless rains. Homes have washed away, cities are under water, and farm land is swamped. It’s the Great Flood of ‘97 all over again, except now we have the fresh images of Hurricane Katrina stuck in our minds, so the devastation looks all too familiar.

The destruction in the central United States follows two major natural disasters overseas. First, there was the cyclone in Myanmar. Then the earthquake in China. Neither of those countries will recover for years to come, and the same will be true for the Midwestern United States. We will not even have a good handle on the level of destruction until the flood waters have receded. Only then will the mud and grime and mold and rot show themselves. Only then does it become clear what has floated away and what is still standing.

At times like these, when our world seems so battered and broken, it is hard to figure out where God is or what God is doing. The word “gospel” means good news, and it is hard to find good news in a world that literally seems to be crumbling beneath our feet. How can we proclaim the gospel when our brothers and sisters are suffering so? Where is the good news?!

It is, indeed, difficult to find hope when we watch on TV as houses -- in Myanmar or Iowa -- are washed down a raging river. It is hard to find hope when we see the tears of people -- in Missouri, in China, in Myanmar -- who have lost everything they own and have, in some cases, lost members of their families. We wonder where God is and why on earth we are not standing in three feet of water in our living room.

Then we come upon this morning’s scripture: “When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless. He had compassion for them. The words that follow these may give you insight into where you can, in fact, find hope in times like these: “Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’”

At first glance, the words about “the harvest being plentiful” may grate on one’s nerves in light of the many acres of farmland that have been destroyed and the number of farmers who will have no crop to harvest this year. It is likely, in fact, that many small family farmers will be pushed out of business permanently because they simply cannot afford a year without a harvest. But the agricultural language used by Jesus was one that his listeners could understand, and it is one that most people from the Midwestern United States can understand as well.

It’s true that in this case, the harvest is far from plentiful. But enormous amounts of labor will still be required, as residents of these drowned places attempt to recover their lives. There may not be plentiful harvest, but there is more work to do than there are locals who can do it. Christ, therefore, is calling us, his disciples, to go to those harassed and helpless folk: “As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.”

I was overseas when the flood of ‘97 hit, but I know that it was the hard work and good deeds of outsiders that lifted the hearts of those whose lives seemed washed away. That recovery effort is finally done in the areas along the Red River of the North, but much remains in the news about volunteers who continue to help rebuilding New Orleans and the other areas devastated by Hurricane Katrina.

In times like these, when hearts have been broken by natural disaster, they begin to mend with the outpouring of love from those who see their plight. The good news about the realm of God can actually seep through the muck and the tears when it is brought by people who have come to help. As Christians, we are compelled to love our neighbors in China, in Myanmar, in Wisconsin, and to find some way of showing them our love. Of course, we pray. We may also send money through the UCC Disaster Response Funds or other relief organizations. There has been difficulty distributing aid to Myanmar and China due to political tensions, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying. We may write letters to people in areas affected by the disasters, share artwork, send words of hope. Or we may, indeed, go to the areas themselves and provide the labor of our hands.

When Jesus commissioned his disciples he was not just calling on twelve fishermen. He was calling on all who follow him to do the hard work of discipleship. You may not have the ability to send $100 for relief efforts or go tear down flood-damaged houses and build new ones. But you must find some way to help. Simply saying “I’m too busy” isn’t good enough. Even if the only thing you can do is pray, then do a whole lot of praying. If you can write a letter to someone -- maybe to one of the UCC churches in Iowa that has been damaged by the flood -- then do that. Or simply talk about the events. Don’t let the people of Myanmar be forgotten. Don’t let the people of China be forgotten. We are less likely to forget our own American Midwesterners, but make sure they’re not forgotten too. Remember, it will be a very long time before these places recover, and remembering their plight will take a whole lot of heart. By giving us the leadership of Jesus Christ, God equipped us with that heart, so let’s get back to using it. We have been called by Christ. Let us answer.

Now let us pray.