Division

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
August 18, 2013
“Division”
Rev. Mark R. Miller
Luke 12:49-56

Is anyone else troubled by the words of Jesus in this passage?  This is one of those difficult passages where, frankly I want to pass over.  It is particularly difficult because deep down we like to think about Jesus as a kind, nice, and respectable fellow who loves everyone, and of course never loses his temper.  Unfortunately, if we are willing to grow deeper in the life of faith, we find a troubling figure that does not fit the ideal of respectability. 

            What is the, “Prince of Peace,” doing promising division and hoping for fire?  In preparation for his birth we are told that he will, “guide our feet into the way of peace.”  When Jesus sends out the disciples to heal, feed, and teach, he sends them on a mission of peace.  Jesus even tells parables where Father and son are reconciled in the Prodigal Son.  And following the resurrection, the first words Jesus speaks to the disciples are:  “Peace is with you.”  I am left wondering if the passage this morning is simply an aberration.  Was this one of those moments where Jesus is tired and fed up and loses his temper? 

            Actually, Jesus’ words in this passage are a reminder that preaching, living, and working for peace can have some unexpected consequences.  We only have to go back to the parable of the prodigal son.  The father and younger son are reconciled, but the older brother refuses to be reconciled.  His reaction to the good news is not peace but anger and jealous.  The good news of the gospel is often rejected most fully, Jesus teaches, from the most religious people. 

Nowhere is this more evident than when Jesus stands up to preach his first sermon.  He reads these words from the prophet Isaiah:  “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because God has 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.”  Jesus then says that these powerful words, that have become too familiar to those in the faith community, have real implications for life right now.  And the response to his sermon is to try and hurl him off a cliff.  The message of peace, justice, and God’s kingdom lead to struggle and find the most unwelcome audience among the most religious.

            Peace is a word that has all but lost meaning in our own time.  Peace often means the absence of conflict or simply order.  We call in armed military or police to “keep the peace.”  What we really mean is that a particular interpretation of order will be created by any means necessary.  But to understand the peace of Jesus we have to recognize that true peace is built upon justice.  The peace of Jesus isn’t about being nice but about building relationships, communities, neighborhoods, cities, states, nations, and economic orders based on the loving justice shown in Jesus. 

            That all sounds great in theory but working to build true peace based on justice, even in our family relationships or our faith community, is never easy.  “Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.”  These words from Dorothy Day get at the heart of Jesus teaching.  It is easy to say these things and hope for them in our hearts but when Sunday is over, or even twelve fifteen rolls around, life gets messy.  How do we live this out?

            I think the key is to embrace Jesus teaching about baptism and fire.  When he wishes that the fire had already been kindled, he is not talking about the destruction of people.  He is talking about those things, in our lives and personalities that need discarding.  The fire is a metaphor for the cleansing, transformation, or ridding of those parts of us of which we are not particularly proud and which do not buildup the body of Christ.  In acknowledging this reality we become more aware that each person we meet, each person in this community is dealing with heavy stuff. 

And each one of us is broken. 

Baptism is the Key – the role of baptism sets us aside and creates a new identity.  It means that our brokenness does not have to have the last word.  And it means that we will be less surprised when resistance to true peace comes our way.  Picking of the mantle of Jesus – good news to the poor – release to the captives – oppressed goes free is fantastic rhetoric and a beautiful vision.  But it is a dreadful thing for some in action.  We might just find out that folks want to hurl us off a cliff.  But the good news is that we are not the first, or the last, we are part of a long history of people who know, truly know, that peace can truly be divisive.  Amen

 

 

 

 

Bigger Barns

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
August 4, 2013
“Bigger Barns”
Rev. Mark R. Miller
Luke 12:13-31

            It was one of those random moments where a student asks the teacher a question and the entire class thinks to themselves, “What on earth are you talking about?”  The question is so utterly off topic that you wonder if the student is listening.  Up to this point Jesus has been talking about the life of a disciple.  There has been teaching on hypocrisy, God’s faithfulness, how to pray, and the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of the community, and the need to not be afraid.  It is pretty powerful stuff.

And then, and then a hand goes up.  “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”  You can almost hear someone say, “Really? Weren’t you listening?”  Fortunately, Jesus does not dismiss the man’s foolishness.  Like any good teacher he knows this is a teachable moment.  Jesus quickly discerns that the question is rooted in greed, selfishness, and fear. 

It would be easy to use this man as a foil.  But before we beat up on the man too much, it is important to know that he was most likely a person in need.  In Deuteronomy the laws are very clear about inheritance.  It only goes to the men and most of it to the oldest son.  Two-thirds of the estate belongs to the older brother.  It appears that he is not giving the younger brother his third.  The issue for this man is fairness and justice for himself.  Jesus is not blind to these things.  He seems to understand this man needs a change of focus. 

Jesus understands the power and pull of materialism.  This man is distracted by one thing.  It is one thing that stands in his way of faithful discipleship.  Money or lack thereof is keeping him from focusing on living as a disciple.  This results in Jesus reframing the question and helping to open his eyes.  “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”

To make this point Jesus tells a parable meant to show the foolish impulse of hoarding.  Massive accumulation of wealth consumes our whole being.  The man already has full barns.  He already has more than he needs or can use.  So with no thought of sharing his overabundance he builds bigger barns.  Or today, we might call them off shore bank accounts to avoid corporate taxes.  How else will we be able to pay billions of dollars to those who serve as CEO of the worlds’ major corporations?  Jesus’ response to this is simple, “You people are fools!”

Once again we come face to face with how the biblical story and our culture are at odds.   Our consumer culture has tapped into something deep in the human spirit.  We all have God-given desires.   But consumerism has gotten those desires out of order.  In a consumer society, everything becomes a commodity to be bought and sold – the value of everything and everyone is based upon their utility to us.  Just like the man whose desire is for his inheritance and the desire for bigger barns, the underlying motivation is selfishness, what is in it for me.

Thomas Aquinas, monk and medieval theologian, had much to teach on the issue of property.   Property, like anything else, should be regarded as a gift from God, he said.  And, that gift is only valid if we use it for the benefit of others.  In other words, life and possessions are a gift of God to be used to advance God’s agenda of care and compassion, precisely for those who lack resources to provide for themselves.  For Jesus and for his followers, money is not a neutral topic and that is why healthy communities of faith learn to see money as deeper spiritual issue.  Indeed it is practical.  The building must be fixed and bills must be paid, but it is not simply a practical issue.  And when we separate out our discussion about resources from our corporate and spiritual life, it is a sign that our spiritual life is not healthy.

A few years ago I read an article about money, faith, and the local congregation.  It said that one of the simple truths about money is this:  “Money matters reveal the true heart of a congregation.”  How is money used?  How is money talked about?  These are the questions that reveal the most about our spiritual health.  So how are we doing with our money?  (Big Pause)

Being very deliberate with our money is important.  In fact, I cannot say this enough.  Planning with our money is essential – ignoring it is not the way forward, in our homes or in the congregation.  The plan must be rooted in our faith values.  The long term goals must be focused on the building of disciples for ministry in the world.  The simple truth is that we cannot do everything.  And we need to learn to say no more often, we cannot and should not do everything, but we cannot fall into the trap of the young man.  It is not about us and our desires.

What does it mean for Westminster to be rich toward God?  It means that our first desire is to order our desires in God’s desires.  It means that we as a small congregation cannot jump at everything that comes along.  It means we must stop comparing ourselves with what other communities are doing.  Just because it worked somewhere else does not mean that is God’s plan for us here.  We have been called by God to invite people into deeper relationship with God and one another for all that means along the Delmar Divide. 

There isn’t enough money for that.  That is too expensive.  Those are not unimportant considerations.  It is true that there are some things we simply cannot do because of resources of time, people, and money.  However, those words seem to take on a life of their own.  They become a way to hide our true feelings.  If there isn’t enough money no more discussion needs to be had.  And this is the flip side of what is happening with the young man.  Everything, all the kingdom conversations, healings, breaking bread, have to come to a halt until we deal with the practical issues of the money.  Until we have exhausted all possibilities through prayer and discernment, our best creative minds, saying there isn’t money for something is a sign we need to attend more closely to our spiritual life.   So let us commit to do just that, to keep one another accountable and remember that bigger barns, or bigger endowments, or bigger congregations were not the building blocks Jesus sought in showing us how to be part of God’s work.  Amen?

 

 

Hungry People

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
July 28, 2013
“Hungry People”
Rev. Mark R. Miller
Luke 11:1-13

            “The clasping of the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.”  Most conversations about prayer do not begin to touch on this simpler reality.  But these words form Karl Barth get to the heart of what we call the Lord’s Prayer. When we put our hands together we are not just talking to God, but also saying “No” to the current arrangements of our lives and of the world.  To pray is to be part of the uprising against everything that is wrong.  Maybe that is why so many people are afraid of prayer.

            Prayer in a consumer society simply does not work.  When we spend money or time, which in our society is the same thing, we expect something in return.  We give because we will get more in return.  Isn’t that what we teach our children?  It is better to give than receive, because what you get in return is more than you could ever give.  The underlying problem is that we are focused on what is in it for us.  This not only impacts our understanding of prayer but impacts our understanding of church.

            When Christians in North America struggle with the loss of membership or lack of “young people,” this same mentality can show up.  We need more people to keep our church going!  Or, less blatant, is the desire to change all sorts of things in the hope that “young people” will like what the church has to offer.  The problems come when the church finds itself in the business of meeting everyone’s individual needs.  At some point, we will not be able to do it all.  What happens when we cannot make everyone happy?  What happens when things do not go the way each person likes?  If we continue to believe our work is to please people and provide for all the desires of people inside the church we have failed in our mission just as sure as we will fail in the attempt to be a good consumer church.

            The biggest problem with this orientation in the life of faith is that eventually we have to deal with one big issue.  God does not act like this and Jesus never said, “Come and follow me and you will be happy and like everything about the other people who are following me.”  What happens when God does not answer prayer the way we expect or hope?  How do we deal with this?  We could say, God always answers our prayers, just not in the way we want.  Or, we could tell people it is their fault for not praying hard enough.  After all, Jesus said if you are persistent, God will give you everything you want!  So if you do not have what you want in life, it is your fault!  Except that is not what Jesus said. 

            What Jesus is saying to the disciples is the foundation for prayer in the life of faith.  And it is not about praying hard enough or even about God simply saying “No” to your request.  When the disciples ask Jesus about prayer it is not what they or we expect.  The simple reality about prayer is that it is about asking God for one thing, “Bring about the kingdom Lord!”  The rest of the prayer is about how to live in the meantime.   Give us bread for tomorrow.  Not me, not just my family, but we.  This means all people.  Forgive our sin and where we fall short and make us forgive others, and save us from the troubles that come from working for your kingdom. 

            Praying the Lord’s Prayer is necessary because we are unwilling to share our resources.  In our culture it is alright for some people to be homeless.  It is acceptable for families to go hungry and children to be exploited.  In our culture it is alright to give to charity but you better not question why charity is necessary.  And in our culture it is alright for people to hoard more than they, their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren could ever use while all this happens.  And many of them claim this is just God’s blessing.  Which leaves me wondering which God are they talking about?

            Jesus talked about persistence in prayer and God providing.  But what is it that God provides?  The good news is that the answer to this question is right there in the text.  Be persistent Jesus says.  Demand things from God – Give us, forgive us, and deliver us!  These are not timid prayers.  These are words that come from a relationship with God as Abba, and even like a friend you would go to in the middle of the night for help.  Jesus says, ask, seek, knock and your prayers will be answered.  And what is it that God will give?  The answer is in verse thirteen, “…how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask.”

No car, or job, or parking space, or anything else other than the Holy Spirit. 

This is a difficult teaching.  It is not a very satisfying answer for those of us used to getting a return for our investment.  Anne Braden tells a story about her work for justice and about persistence.  And she says that we will not get to see the end of our work.  But we are able to keep going if we know in what Cathedral we are placing our stone… talk about the great cathedrals…  it is not a very satisfying answer.

            Prayer is resistance to the disorder in God’s world.  It helps us continue on and changes us from being consumers to being part of the body of Christ.  And when we truly look at the disorder around us, receiving the Holy Spirit, in whatever form it may come, seems more powerful than anything else I could imagine to ask.

Father, hallowed be your name.  Your kingdom come.  Give us each day our daily bread.  And forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.  And do not bring us to the time of trial.  Amen?

 

The Better Part of Faith

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
July 21, 2013
“The Better Part of Faith”
Rev. Mark R. Miller
Luke 10:38-42

Despite news to the contrary this parable is not for women alone. I find it really strange that when we read biblical stories about men, they become universal statements about all humanity. They become lessons for all people. But, when it comes to the stories about women - Sarah, Rebecca, Ruth, Esther, The woman at the well, or the woman with the lost coin - the message becomes only for or about women.

The story of Mary and Martha is a prime example of this tendency. How many men have been asked: Are you more of a Mary or a Martha? The truth is that we have to resist the impulse to interpret scripture this way. Why can’t the stories about women be universal? When we do this, and I believe we must, then the story of Mary and Martha is teaching us about mindfulness instead of how to classify women. In other words, we must stop asking women; “Are you a Mary or a Martha?” The issue at the heart of this encounter in Martha’s home is mindfulness. And the best way to see this is for us to go back to the text.

Martha welcomes Jesus into her home. It begins with hospitality. Most of Jesus’ ministry occurs in people’s homes and with sharing food. This sort of gathering would have been familiar Jesus. And so, Martha provides space for learning, breaking of bread, and fellowship. But soon, her focus moves from offering hospitality to animosity. Martha is angry because she is doing all the work by herself. Despite being the one who extends hospitality, she is not happy with how it turns out. We all know what happens next. Martha gets angry and asks Jesus to intervene. Instead of involving himself in the family struggle, Jesus names what is really going on. Martha has become distracted by her anger. As a result, Jesus says that Mary has chosen the better part. I wish this provided real insight, but Jesus always seem to raise more questions than he answers. Or actually, Jesus invites us into the questions instead of simply providing easy answers. And the two that I think give us the best way forward are: When Jesus says the “better part of faith” what does he mean? Is the point of this story to show that action is not as important as reflection?

So what is the “better part of faith?” What we know about Martha is that she is distracted, and possibly angry. She is working while her sister is not. We have all been in that situation before. And it does not seem fair. Instead of offering hospitality, Mary has taken a position as a disciple, listening and learning. She has taken on a role traditionally reserved for men. She is breaking with tradition and Jesus is not doing anything about it. A more common interpretation of this passage usually goes something like this: the women in the church need to stop worrying about all those details and just relax. And then, you can hear that question coming: “Women, are you more like Mary or Martha?” The problem is that when Jesus is with men who feel entitled to being served he tells them to serve like the women and to the women Jesus invites them to act like men. Jesus is always breaking down traditional gender roles if we only have eyes to see and ears to hear. The issue is about focus. Martha, like all of us, is unable to focus

Where do you get that living water?

Scripture: John 4:1-14

Coffeehouse style worship

Emma Dobson

           

Where do you get that living water?  I think the Samaritan woman asks a good question.  It’s been hot lately, and I’ve been getting thirsty. I’m betting it’s not just me who’s been getting thirst either.  So, thirsty brothers and sisters, where do we get that living water? 

           To find it, it might be helpful to know what we’re looking for.  I hope it’s not to much of a leap to say that Jesus isn’t speaking literally in this passage.  Jesus is not talking about the kind of water that we can put in a glass and drink.  Jesus is talking about spiritual nourishment.  He uses the metaphor of water because it’s one all of us can understand.  We all know what it’s like to be physically thirsty.  And, I’d bet that we all know what it’s like to be spiritually thirsty as well.  We wouldn’t be sitting here this morning if we weren’t spiritually thirsty. 

            And why are we thirsty?  Not because we’ve not drunk in the spiritually nourishing living water, but rather because drinking of the living water is not a one time event.  Though we often hear it implied in the reading of this text, Jesus never says that one drink of living water is enough to quench thirst forever.  What he says is “those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”  Jesus uses the words will and will become.  This is both present and future tense.  Jesus promises us that, eventually, we will be satisfied by the spiritual nourishment he offers.  Jesus will live in us, and eventually, will transform and give us life eternal.

            We aren’t supposed to drink once and stop.  We live in a world that is parched by sin, and we thirst because it parches us too.  We need to keep drinking the nourishment that Jesus offers us.  It is only by this continued drinking that, eventually, we will be filled, we will be transformed, and we will have eternal life. 

            So where do we get this living water- the water that will fill us, transform us, and lead us to eternal life?  We were born from sacred living water, and we breathed its vapor in at our first breath.  At our baptisms, we were washed in living water.  We drink living water each time we gather to worship, to learn more about God’s word, to enjoy each others’ company.  We drink more living water when we read our Bibles, when we pray, and when we care for one another.

            And yes, we still get spiritually thirsty.  So this morning, I invite you to take satisfy that spiritual thirst a little bit more, in a different way.  I will have some meditative music playing, and if that’s spiritually nourishing for you, I invite you, to sit and listen or pray as it plays.  If you’d like, as you feel moved, come forward to the bowl of our baptismal font up front.  I will offer a blessing to you, and pour some water over your hands as a reminder of the living water you’ve already drunk and will continue to drink on your spiritual journey.  We’ll conclude this time of drinking of the living water together with a pray.  So now, let the Spirit guide you to the prayer, meditation, or movement towards the font that is most nourishing for you.

Blessing: The holy living water is around you and within you.  From your birth to your baptism to this moment, you have been drinking it in.  Drink deeply, and you will be transformed into a spring gushing up to eternal life in Christ.

 

Concluding Prayer: Nourishing Spirit, who hovered over the waters at creation’s birth, who descended in the form of a dove at Jesus’ baptism, who poured our under the signs of fire and wind at Pentecost, nourish us today.  Wash over us, fill us, renew us, and satisfy our thirst bit by bit as we continue to drink of you today, and every day.  Amen 

Luke 8:26-39

            His name wasn’t really John, but I’ll call him that any way.  John was in his 60’s, and he’d had a hard life.  He was in and out of prison when he was younger, but had managed to stay out for the past 20 years straight.  He had been in gangs, and it was kind of nebulous if he still had some connection to one or not.  But now, he really wanted to turn his life around.  He had found a nice woman.  He wanted to settle down, and leave the rougher parts of his past behind him.  What he was struggling with now was drug addiction.  The details aren’t important, but John was using some large amounts of some very powerful, dangerous, and illegal stuff.  He’d been going to NA- narcotics anonymous, for those of you who aren’t familiar- and he’d had some success staying clean for short periods of time. 

            But there was a problem.  John could give up his drug of choice when it was just him and his significant other.  But not when his family or friends were around.  His family and friends were used to John the addict.  They had crafted their whole lives and relationships around him being a certain way.  They knew how he acted when he was getting the drug.  They knew how he acted when he was high on the drug.  They knew how he acted after he’d come down.  And they knew just how they were supposed to act in all these situations.  They were comfortable with it, and they didn’t want to have to change because he suddenly felt like changing. Instead of being excited for him, his friends and family were angry, confused, and afraid.  And, because of their fear of change, they ended up either pushing him away, or pushing him right back to that drug he wanted to badly to quit.  They preferred the chains of addiction to the discomfort of change.

            His name wasn’t really James, but I’ll call him that anyway.  I don’t know how old he was, and I don’t know much about his past.  But he was possessed by demons, and they’d been torturing him for long enough that everyone knew it.  He was living among the tombs now, if you could call what he had a life.  He was kept chained up, and there was even someone there to guard him.  But, even those precautions weren’t enough.  The demons still got to him.  He would break free of his chains sometimes, and the demons would get him to run even further away from the people who used to be his family or friends.

            And then this man showed up.  Jesus showed up.  Jesus was different, and the man we’re calling “James” knew it right away.  He knew who Jesus was.  First of all, Jesus was a Jewish man, and Jewish people weren’t supposed to be anywhere near him.  They weren’t supposed to be around dead bodies, and he lived surrounded by dead bodies.  Jewish people weren’t supposed to be around pigs, and he was surrounded by a herd of pigs as well.  Second, Jesus wasn’t just any Jewish man.  He was, as the demons knew, the son of God.  Certainly, the son of God wouldn’t want anything to do with a demon possessed man.  Demons and God aren’t exactly best friends.  And, regular people didn’t want anything to do with James anyway.  Why would this Jewish man, the son of God, have anything to do with him?  Jesus must be there to torture him, James and his demons decided.

            But this isn’t what Jesus did.  Instead, Jesus set the man free from his demons.  This was big news.  So people started to come back to see James.  His family, and his former friends, maybe.  But, instead of being happy that he was newly free of what had been torturing him for so long, we read that they were afraid.  Like John’s family and friends were used to his drug addiction, the people who knew James were used to his demon possession.  They knew how he acted when he was under the influence of his demons.  And, they knew how to act around him.  They were comfortable with things the way they were.  They didn’t want to have to change just because James had suddenly been changed. The chains were better than the change.  So they ended up pushing Jesus away.

            It’s pretty easy to think that the people of the Gerasenes were awful, weak, or cowards doe pushing Jesus away.  But while they aren’t exactly exemplars of the faithful life, I don’t want to demonize them.  They’re humans, dealing with a difficult part of human life.  They’re humans dealing with difficult change, and there’s a lot of change going in this scripture passage. 

            In this passage, we first encounter personal change.  This is what happens to the man who was possessed by demons.  And personal change can certainly be difficult.  Going back to John and his struggle to stay clean, it wasn’t easy for John to stop using his drug of choice.  It was really, really hard.  He was going to NA and counseling, he really wanted the change, and still, he struggled.  The man we’re calling James, the Gerasene man who was possessed by demons, compared getting rid of them to torture.  I’m sure every one of us has a story, too, of making a change in our lives and how much we struggled to succeed.  Because change is hard.  Change takes away our familiar comfort and makes our lives difficult as we re-learn how to be ourselves in the world.

            And it isn’t just personal change that is so difficult.  There is also the kind of change that other people bring into our lives.  That’s the kind of change John’s family and friends fought when he stopped getting high.  It’s the kind of change the people of the Gerasenes fought when the man was freed from the demons that possessed him.  It’s pretty easy to get angry at John’s family and friends for pushing him back into the cycle of drug addiction.  It’s pretty easy to laugh or be incredulous that the people of the Gerasenes were so afraid of that they pushed Jesus away. 

            But here’s the honest truth.   It really is incredibly difficult when we have to change our lives because of someone else.  Maybe you’ve had a loved one become ill, and you’ve had to rearrange your life to care for them  Or, for those of you with children or younger siblings, remember the huge transformation of your life when they were born.  Maybe you’ve made a friend or had an encounter with someone and your life wasn’t the same afterwards.  This kind of change, the kind that comes from others, can be even harder than changing ourselves.  And, when others change our lives in this really difficult way, we tend to resist. 

            We like the way we are.  We worked hard to be who we are and we don’t want anyone else to change us!  Change is hard and we like to be comfortable instead.  But comfortable isn’t always good.  It’s a desire for comfort that got John’s family to push him back to his drug addiction and their dysfunctional family dynamics.  It’s a desire for comfort that got the people of the Gerasenes to push Jesus away.  And, it’s a desire for comfort that keeps us, today, from embracing the kind of radical change that Jesus still offers us.  And sadly, there are times we prefer the chains of the way things were to the change that can be.   

            There are so many examples of this around us.  We’d rather leave transgendered people chained among the tombs than have to change restroom signs.  We’d rather leave republicans or democrats, liberals or conservatives—whichever we’re not—chained among the tombs than actually get to know them.  Because then have to change our idea of who the “other” really is, and it’s hard to get into a shouting match with a real person.  We’d rather leave the homeless, single parents, teenagers with strange hairstyles, people of other races, anyone who is different than we are chained to the tombs.  We do this because it’s so hard when others being change to our lives.  But, when we leave people chained among the tombs, we become John’s family refusing to accept him back.  We become the people of the Gerasenes asking Jesus to leave.  All because change is so uncomfortable, that it scares us to our cores.

            I’m sure you get this by now-- The comfortable and familiar aren’t necessarily good.  Jesus didn’t show up, see the man with the demons, say “Well this looks pretty good,” and leave.  Jesus frees him from his demons and then sends him back into the very same community that would rather have him chained among the tombs.  Because as hard as it was, both the man and the community needed that change.

            And we too, need to make room for change.  I’m willing to bet that none of us wants to become John’s family, pushing him back into drug addiction and clinging to an unhealthy family dynamic.  So, the question is, who do we want to be?  How do we want our story to end. 

            I don’t know how John’s story ends.  I don’t know if he ever was successful staying off his drug and settling down with the woman he loved.  And we don’t know how the man we’re calling James’ story ends.  We don’t know if he was accepted back into the community and one day found a place to belong and happiness.  But, we do get to write the ends of our story.  We get to pick.  Chains or change? 

The Gift of Forgiveness

Psalm 32; Luke 7:36-50

         The box sat on Adrian’s shelf for 12 years. It was a small box, square, and wrapped in shiny green paper with a big red bow on top.  It was a Christmas present his wife Trudy had given him before she died.  He just couldn’t bring himself to open it.  It hurt too much.  So it sat there, for twelve years.  He would bring it out at Christmas time, and put it under his tree.  He would look at it.  He would touch it.  But he wouldn’t actually open it.  He wouldn’t receive the gift she’d given to him.

            Now, if you watched the TV show Monk while it was on, you know just what box I’m talking about and you know who Adrian Monk is.  If you didn’t watch the show, I’ll fill you in on the essentials.  Adrian Monk was a detective.  But, he had some problems. He had all kinds of phobias—milk, germs, ladders, lady bugs—there was a list of about 300.  He also had obsessive compulsive disorder, and was always touching lights and counting poles, checking to see if he’d left the oven on.  He had always had quirks, but it was his wife’s death that sent him over the edge into full blown psychological problems to the point of disability.  And still, he was brilliant.  He could walk into a crime scene and see things no one else noticed.  He could put together bits of information no one else could connect.  By the end of the hour, he could always solve the case. 

            Except for one.  His wife Trudy’s murder.  He couldn’t figure it out, and he couldn’t let it go.  And in the end, we find out that the box, the Christmas gift that he wouldn’t open is actually intimately related to this seemingly impossible to solve mystery.  But more on that later.  Because at this point, you’re probably wondering what in the world Adrian Monk has to do with the Psalms and Luke. 

            In both these scripture passages, we are reminded that, like Adrian, we have been given a gift.  Our gift, however, is from God. Now, I’m not going to tell you what the gift from Trudy was.  But I will tell you what our gift from God is  It’s forgiveness.  And, like the gift from Trudy was so difficult for Adrian to open, God’s gift of forgiveness can be incredibly hard for us to accept too. 

            Accepting God’s forgiveness requires us to admit that we need God’s gift in the first place.  First and foremost, this requires us to recognize our own sin.  We have to see where we have gone astray, and that can be difficult when our world doesn’t reflect God’s realm very well.  Sin doesn’t always stand out.  To figure out what this means, let’s take Simon in the Luke reading as an example.  He thought he was doing pretty well.  As a Pharisee, he was a strict observer of Torah, and a very religious man.  He had invited Jesus into his home, and is feeding him a meal. He’s showing hospitality to a man many viewed as strange or radical. 

            And yet, Jesus points out, Simon didn’t do everything he could have for Jesus.  And, more importantly, Simon didn’t even realize that he had done and not done things that needed forgiveness.  Jesus points out small things, and these small things probably mirror the kind of sin most of us commit.  It’s not likely that we’ve murdered someone, but it is likely that we don’t always show God’s love to its fullest potential.  But, just because our sin is hard for us to see, it doesn’t mean that we aren’t in need of forgiveness. 

            But, even when we do see our own sin, we run into another complication.  There’s the whole part where we need to admit it, to ask God for forgiveness.  And we live in a culture teaches us that we’re not supposed to need anything from anyone.  It’s a culture that idolizes independence.  If we can do accomplish projects by ourselves, if we can “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps,” if we can figure out a way to make it work without involving anyone else, then, by cultural standards, we’ve made it.  The goal is to get enough money and enough resources that we can support ourselves, and whatever we need to do to get there is ok, as long as we make it to self-sufficiency.  We’re not supposed to move back in with our parents (I did), we’re not supposed to ever take government assistance (I have), and when we get older, we’re not supposed to need anyone to take care of us, because if we do, that’s a failure. Or, to return to the opening story, Adrian was a brilliant detective.  He wasn’t supposed to need a Christmas present to help him solve a case.

            So, to need forgiveness then, in our culture is to be seen as weak or a failure. And that make forgiveness a hard gift to accept. To be fair though, this mindset of self-sufficiency isn’t unique to this particular culture. Even the psalmist, thousands of years ago and thousands of miles away, writes about how difficult it was for them to acknowledge sin.  They write that they “kept silence” before they could even bring themselves to acknowledge sin to God.  We often do this too, don’t we?  Not just with God, but perhaps with a partner or a friend.  We realize we’ve done something wrong, but it hurts or shames us too much to admit it.  Even though, in most cases, we know they will forgive us, we still hold back. 

            And, with God, we can be sure that we will be forgiven, and yet, we hold back.  I want to repeat that, because sometime it’s hard to accept that part too.  God will forgive you, even if the sin or sins you see don’t seem small.  God will surely forgive all of us for whatever we’ve done or left undone.   Even so, we’re still not quite sure if that gift of forgiveness is worth the effort and pain it takes to open the box.

            Why should we even bother then?  If our sins are hard to see, if it’s hard to accept forgiveness, what’s the point in even finding our sin, admitting it, and asking for forgiveness?  The psalmist helps us out with this too.  As they point out, sin has consequences.  Even physical consequences.  I’m not suggesting that God physically punishes us when we sin and don’t admit it.  I am suggesting that there are natural consequences to carrying around the burden of sin.  The psalmist talks about this.  They write that while they carried around the burden of unacknowledged sin, their body wasted away, they groaned all day long, and their strength was dried up.  Adrian almost died before he was willing to open the box.  He was sick, weak, and miserable.  Perhaps you know the feeling.  I’m willing to bet that we’ve all carried around guilt or shame, and it’s hard.  It hurts.  It breaks us down, physically and mentally. 

            And still, sometimes, we hold on to our sin.  We may think it’s trivial and we can hide it.  We may think that it’s not that bad and really doesn’t need forgiveness.  But it weighs on us and wears on us and it robs us from the full experience of forgiveness and yet we can’t let it go.  We can’t open that green box.  Maybe it’s because we wonder if it’s really worth it.  Because, yes, sin wears on us, but we can survive.  We’re not to the point of death yet.  And if we survive without opening that box, we can avoid some pain and maybe some shame.  Is forgiveness really that good of a gift, anyway?

            Yes.  Yes, forgiveness is that good of a gift.  And, only when we accept it can we experience how good forgiveness is.  When Monk opened the box from Trudy, it was incredibly painful for him.  But, it was also incredibly liberating.  Without spoiling it for those of you who haven’t seen the show, in that little green box was what he needed to finally solve her murder.  Because he opened the box, his pain, guilt, and mental anguish subsided.  He found joy again.  He was able to love again. 

            Here’s the really good news.  When we accept the forgiveness that God offers us, it’s even better than Monk’s box.  God’s forgiveness takes away our burdens from sin, guilt, and shame.  God’s forgiveness opens us to experiencing joy.  We can see this as we go back to the psalmist—they describe their time before confessing sin and subsequently receiving forgiveness as a time of anguish.  And how do they describe forgiveness?  Happiness, glad cries of deliverance, gladness, and shouting for joy.  And, the psalmist tries to persuade us to do as they’ve done—to open that box of forgiveness no matter how hard it might be.

            Forgiveness gives us a new, better quality of life. Through acknowledging sin and accepting God’s gift of forgiveness we are freed to live in gratitude and love.  Just look at the woman from the Luke passage—she is living in forgiven gratitude and love.  She is weeping with gratitude, kissing the feet of the one she knows has forgiven her sins.  And Jesus praises her as the example of faithfulness.  Jesus doesn’t actually forgive this woman’s sins in the story we read.  She enters Simon’s house in a state of forgiven gratefulness, and this is the example we get of how to live faithfully.  A sinner, forgiven and grateful for the gift.

            So if we want to follow the example this woman sets, we, too, need to accept that difficult gift of forgiveness.  I won’t pretend to know how this looks for each of you, because it will be different for everyone.  However this looks for you, whether it’s crying your gratitude all over Jesus’ feet or the glad cries of deliverance the psalmist speaks about coming out of your mouth, or simply basking in the newly received joy of forgivennness—accept this part of God’s gift too.  Live in loving gratitude, in faith, in hope, and in joy.  You are forgiven.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Holy Interruptions

June 9th, 2013
Third Sunday After Pentecost
1 Kings 17:8-24
Emma Dobson

 

She was just trying to make some bread.  She was hungry.  Starving really.  Not the kind of “starving” we feel when dinner is too long in coming, but real starving.  Dying of starvation.  She didn’t have enough money to buy food to eat.  There was no to take care of here for her.  So, she was going to make one last bit of bread with the oil and grain she had left, and then, she and her son were going to starve.  She wasn’t exactly in a happy mood.  And then, this man showed up.  She could tell from his accent that he wasn’t from Zarephath.  And she could also see that he had been eating and drinking.  He wasn’t starving to death.

            And then, he has the nerve to ask her for water.  This man from a strange land who clearly had been able to eat and drink just fine while she had next to nothing.  Maybe she just didn’t have the energy to protest. Wordlessly, she turned to get him the water he wanted.  But then, he asked for more.  For bread.  She didn’t even have enough for herself and her son, let alone for herself, her son, and this man.  As tired and hungry as she was, she was also angry.  And she couldn’t be silent any more. “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die."

            To paraphrase, I have nothing. You and your God should know this. I’m dying.  Go away. Stop bothering me.  But the strange man—Elijah-- has the audacity to stay.  Feed me first he says, even though you and your son are starving to death.  God will provide more than enough.  You will not be dying of hunger.  God has other plans for you. 

            Maybe this is when the widow remembered what God had spoken to her.  We don’t hear in the text how it happened, but we read that God had already told this widow to feed Elijah.  And, amazingly, she does.  She takes the little bit that she had and she gives it to this strange man.  She had planned to die.  God had planned for her to live.

            An interesting portrait of the Divine is painted here.  God as provider of life is something with which we’re pretty familiar.  But the way God goes about providing life sustaining bread for this woman and her son is a little unexpected.  God provides through miraculous interruption.  Like we read in the text—she had plans.  She was going to gather sticks, make bread, and die.  God interrupts these plans, with plans of God’s own. 

           I don’t know about you, but I’m a planner.  I like to plan, and to go about my plan and get to my goal.  And if you’re a planner too, you know that we tend to fall in love with our plans.  They’re the perfect way to accomplish whatever it is that needs to be accomplished.  You know-- plans are good, interruptions are bad. Except I get the sense from this text that it might not be as cut and dry as that.  There are good plans and bad plans.  There are God’s plans and our plans. And sometimes they overlap.  Sometimes they don’t.  And when they don’t, God can break in, and interrupt us as we try to accomplish something that go against what God has planned. 

            For example, the widow had a plan.  It was to finish her store of grain and oil, and then to die.  Clearly, this is not what God planned for her.  And, in the person of Elijah and the miracle of grain and oil replenishing themselves, God interrupted her plan.  But maybe it’s a little unfair to say that the widow  planned to eat and then die. She didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Her near starvation was part of a larger plan, not of God, but of the empire in which the widow lived. 

            Society at the time this text was written was structured hierarchically, in terms of how useful those in power deemed people to be.  Women had two main ways to be useful. First, women’s usefulness was to provide money for their fathers through being sold to their husbands.  Then, while property of their husbands, their usefulness was in providing children and labor.  Since widows were doing none of these useful things, they ended up at the bottom of the patriarchal social structure. They had no governmental, social, or financial structure to support them, and they were among the most vulnerable people in society. 

           So, when we come into the story in Kings, the land in which the widow lives is experiencing a drought, and an accompanying famine.  Rather than caring for the vulnerable, who were the first to feel the hunger pains of the famine, the rich were hoarding all they could to take care themselves.  God had a problem with this.  When God fed the widow and her son, God did more than interrupt the plans of a widow with no real options. God interrupted the plans of an empire with no compassion.  

            And in our scripture passage, God shows us how much of a problem God has with this lack of compassion.  And God does this through interruption.  God interrupts the plan that the empire has to let her and her son starve. But then we get to the middle of the scripture passage, it seems like God’s interruptions didn’t even matter.  Though not of starvation, the widow’s son dies anyway. 

            Elijah realizes that this is not part of God’s plan.  If we learned anything from the miraculous bread, it’s that God wants life for the widow and her son.  Knowing this, Elijah asks for one more interruption.  And God responds.  God gives life back to the child, as if to say that God’s plan is never for death and destruction.  Once again, God interrupts certain death to give life when it seems impossible.  Death does not stop the power, the plan, and the love of God. 

            But here’s a really tricky thing with these miraculous interruptions.  They don’t fix everything.  The widow and her household ate, but there were still starving people.  The boy was raised from the dead, but other people still died. The boy himself eventually died again and didn’t come back.  So though God interrupts the plans of neglect, marginalization, and death, even God’s miraculous interruptions didn’t make everything better.  They don’t make everything fit into God’s plan.  They are simply an enactment and a reminder that empire, or any powers of sin and death, do not have the final word.  They show us that nothing will ultimately stop God’s will from being done.

            We know that hunger, death, and all kinds of other problems and pain surround us.  As one small example from the text, we know that hunger is still a problem.  People still go hungry and even starve to death, even in this country.  While the rate of hunger has remained about the same in the rest of the world in the relatively recent past, it’s been increasing in the U.S.  About 35 million people in the U.S. are food insecure, meaning they don’t know where their next meal will come from.  And, like the widow and her child in the scripture passage, the rates are highest among female-headed single parent households.  All of this, while we still have money for tax-breaks on corporate jets, music videos for the IRS, and subsidies for multi-billion dollar corporations.  We are still living in a culture that lets the vulnerable languish, while a few live in incredible luxury.  I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that God still has a problem with this. 

            We need the reminder that this scripture give us. Hunger is not God’s will, and God is still with us.  God was with the starving widow and her son before Elijah came on the scene with the miraculous promise of bread. God was with the grieving widow and the dead boy before Elijah asked him to be raised.  How else could God hear and respond to the needs of the people?  More than being with us in difficult times, this scripture also reminds us that God cares about the pain we experience.  And pain, hunger, death, marginalization, oppression of any kind—these aren’t what God wants for us.  These aren’t part of God’s plan.

            Unfortunately, we don’t get any kind of rhyme or reason for why God sometimes interrupts with miracles and sometimes doesn’t.  But we do get this.  As God’s people, we do have a role in holy interruptions.  It’s not just Jesus and the prophets who get in on this part of the game.  We, too, can participate in interrupting plans that lead to hunger, pain, and death.  It is by Elijah’s role in interrupting hunger and death that the widow recognizes him as a man of God.  And when we participate in holy interruptions, we too fill our role as people of God. 

            So how do we participate in holy interruptions?  Elijah helps us out with this.  Elijah talks to the widow.  He crosses a bit of a social boundary to do this in the first place.  And then, in talking to her he brings out in the open what is wrong—that this woman and her son are starving to death because no one is caring for the most vulnerable people.  We too, can do this.  We can cross barriers, talk to those in pain, and refuse to let stories of oppression, marginalization, and pain be silenced.  We can cry out, too, like Elijah did when the child died.  We can cry out against what we know goes against God’s plan of abundant life for all.  We can pray.  We can ask for those holy interruptions that seem impossible.  And we can keep the faith that God is with us, and God cares, and God has better plans for us and for all.