Dangerous Poetry

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
December 21st 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
"Dangerous Poetry"
Fourth Sunday in Advent
Luke 1:26-38, 47-55
It has become cliché this time of year for people to comment about the “loss of Christ in Christmas.” Some have even claimed that there is a “War on Christmas.” I must admit that I am not all that worried about a perceived or even a real “War on Christmas.” I can say this because I believe in a God who is big enough to withstand any threat; real or imagined. Instead, I think a more fruitful use of our time is to focus our energy on one of the actors in the Christmas nativity who understood the power of God. Her witness, while often lost in the Protestant tradition, is a powerful and import one.
What does the scripture, from Luke, tell us about Mary? Who was she? Where did she come from? (Or with deference to my teachers: From whence did she come?) The truth is that in this Gospel, we know little. What we do know is that she is unmarried but betrothed, promised in marriage. Which places her about age twelve or thirteen. She is the cousin of Elizabeth. And, she is a woman, which in the ancient work meant she had no standing in society. In other words, Mary is not the sort of person whom the world would consider “favored by God.”
By our standards, to be “favored by God would mean having some standing in society. She would have had to come from the proper family. We would need an accounting of her royal or at least religious pedigree. But God breaks expectations and chooses someone who has none of the criteria. In fact, there is no criterion at all. The text tells us only that the angel says: “You have found favor with God.” No reason is given.

Some have argued that Mary is a person of no consequence and as such we should pay her no attention. This could not be further from the truth. The choice of Mary reminds us that God has always chosen people of no consequence to change the world. Christmas is a story that reminds us that God acts through people living on the margins of society.

So, Gabriel speaks to Mary and tells her that the world she knows is about to change. From the outset, it appears that Mary really does not have a choice. But that is not the end of the story. Mary’s first response is to simply ask how this is possible. Gabriel tells Mary of the miraculous things that God has done for her cousin Elizabeth. And adds that; ‘nothing is impossible for God.’ Mary’s final words to Gabriel is not an acquiescence too inevitability but instead and affirmation that she is on board. “Let it be!” Mary has had an encounter with the messenger of God and despite not having a clue as to the consequences, or the details, she says yes.

Mary is the first witness to the good news of Jesus Christ. The mother of God gets clued in before the rest of the world. After pondering these things in her heart, and visiting with her cousin Elizabeth, she finally gives a public witness. But her first words of the good news do not come in the form of a sermon. Instead she presents beautiful, powerful and revolution poetry as her witness to Gods action.

In Carl Sagan’s book Contact, made into a movie starring Jody Foster, a scientist, Foster, is sent on in a specially designed space vessel to make contact with life forms in another galaxy. When this scientist first makes contact and visits this unexplored galaxy her first glimpse leaves her speechless. Unable to convey the beauty of what she has seen in merely descriptive words, the comment is made that they should have sent a poet instead. Poetry has the power to convey what simple description cannot. It has the power to help us imagine and describe things which go beyond mere explanation. But, poetry also has the power to alter the world because poetry has the power to help us imagine that another world is possible. And when that happens the established order is in trouble.

This is the power of the words of Mary. She did not live in a world where the powerful had been brought down from their thrones. Mary did not live in a world where the prideful were scattered or where the rich were sent away empty. Mary’s world the world of an occupied province of a great empire is not one in which this poetic vision would have been birthed. But Mary is able to see it anyway. Mary imagines that another world is possible. She imagines this other world not simply because she has encountered Gabriel but because she knows the larger story of the faith. While she lives under military occupation she knows her primary identity is child of God. And, the God who has claimed her and calls her favored is a God who is bigger than any world power, past present or future.

This is what Mary knows. She knows the stories of the faith. Mary knows that God has done these things in the past. God has brought down the prideful at the tower of Babel. God has lifted up Abraham and Sarah and made them parents of all the generations. Our faith is built upon the faithful action of God and our belief in the power of being a witness. And because of this Mary can with confidence say: ‘the child I carry will upend this world.’ Her song is a song of hope for all those who feast on dust; it is a song of Good News! Amen.

It's All about Comfort, Right?

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
December 7th 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
“It’s All about Comfort, Right?”
Second Sunday of Advent
Communion Sunday
Isaiah 40:1-11; Mark 1:1-8

It was a cold day, a bit too cold to enjoy the garden, but it was the day after thanksgiving, so it was good to be out and about. As I went walking through the Olbrich botanical garden in Madison Wisconsin, I marveled at the silent beauty. The silence was only broken when Emma said: “I bet this is really pretty in the summer.” A bit taken back I replied: “I think it is really pretty right now you just have to work harder to see it.” She looked at me as if to check on whether I was serious or not. Realizing that I was not, “Ok daddy,” is all she said.
I am sure that she is right. The spring and summer versions of that garden are probably quite amazing. However, after two winters working on a tree farm I came to appreciate the beauty provided in the winter landscape. The truth is that when a garden is in full bloom or in its fall glory, we do not have to do much but open our eyes and enjoy, even if that means braving our allergies. But, despite the cold, I believe the barrenness of winter is beautiful and has much to teach if we will just work a little harder to see it.
You do not have to be a fan of gardens to understand what I am saying. We are, after all, a people of the wilderness story. The story of our faith is all about encountering God in the barren places. It took forty years of wandering in the barren wilderness to be prepared for the Promised Land. Moses is spoken to by God in the wilderness; God speaks to the prophets in the wilderness. The messengers of God always find themselves in the wilderness. The wilderness is a barren place where clarity of purpose is often found. John goes into the wilderness to proclaim the good news, and Jesus will go into the wilderness in preparation for his earthly ministry. The wildernesses, the deserts, the barren places of life are really our places.
That may not sound much like good news. It may seem even more difficult when we consider that our calling is to share this story. Just imagine the marketing campaign: “Come to our church it’s a barren, wilderness… a real wasteland!” Not particularly appealing. And add to this that we are a people of the wilderness story in a culture well practiced at avoiding wilderness. It is not that we do not offer a word of comfort but the comfort we are offered is not what most might expect.
The comfort from the words of the prophet is directed to those who have suffered. Comfort is promised in the form of a vision where the inequality of the world comes to an end. Those at the top are going to be brought down and those at the bottom will be brought up. God’s great leveling of the world may not be perceived as comfort if you stand at the top. But at the heart of this passage is that this vision of comfort has more to say about wilderness than about comfort.
Wilderness is never a place where one wants to go, at least if we have a choice. Have you ever encountered a wilderness place, a place of solitude, a place of pain and discomfort? A place where hiding or distraction was no longer an option? The wilderness places of our lives can be as different as each one of us. In fact, no one can name the wilderness places in your life for you. However, if we enter into our wilderness story of faith long enough I am sure it can speak to those places where everything seemed, or seems, barren.
The good news found in the invitation of John the Baptist is that the wilderness is no longer a place for the select few. God invites all people to see the wilderness places, the desert places, and the barren places of our lives for what they have the potential to be: A place of divine encounter. In this second Sunday of advent we are being called to look a little longer, and work a little harder to see the place of beauty in the barren places of our lives. This is not a message where we run out and tell people who are suffering to look for God in their barren places. Instead, and this is critically important, we are called to give witness to where we have seen God working, and speaking in the barren places of our own lives. Advent is an invitation into the wilderness places, but it is also a reminder that the wilderness is not the end of the story. During those long solitary days working on the tree farm in the dead of winter I found that spring never looked as beautiful as when it followed the long cold winter where I longed for even a hint of the hope of spring. Amen.

Hoping for a Tear

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
November 30th 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
“Hoping for a Tear”
First Sunday of Advent Meditation
Isaiah 64:1-9; Mark 13: 24-37

There is a bit of hope in the air these days. But, there is also a good bit of anxiety. What is going to happen? We wait, and watch for the signs. Every year we do the same routine. We wait and watch for this signs. Will this ‘black Friday’ save the economy for another year? I know that sounds funny but the truth is that Advent and the Holiday shopping season are both times of waiting. In our consumer culture the season of advent, the season of waiting, can get lost with all the shopping hype. Fortunately, both texts from this morning provide us with a good way to deal with this tension.
“In those days” and “In the days to come” are words of longing, desperation, and hope. In Isaiah the longing is rooted in the exile, a living hell, where God seems all but absent. For the readers of Mark’s gospel, they are living at a time when the Roman occupation had become particularly difficult. The revolutionary fervor was high because the Roman surge was at unprecedented historic levels. Suffering, pain, and uncertainty were the order of the day. It is out of this trouble that our advent texts were birthed.
At the heart of these passages is a longing for change in the current arrangements. Because the people speaking these words are not the ones in power they must use symbolic language. So when we read about the powers of heaven, or the sun, moon, and stars, know that this is a way to talk about a change in the current arrangements without risking charges of sedition. ‘Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down…’ is a charge which could be labeled seditious by those wedded to the status quo. So the prayer goes up to God hoping that the sky will open and the ‘mighty mountains’ of this world will learn that they are not god.
Advent is a strange season for those who are the ‘mighty mountains’ and others who benefit from the current arrangements. This is probably why many Christians in North American have difficulty relating to Advent. If we dig deep enough Advent is a time when those pleased with the status quo are asked to imagine that things should be different. ‘Tear open the heavens and end the current arrangements,’ is not a prayer in most of our prayer books. It is much easier to focus on the cute baby in the manger. It is at times like this that I did wish we did not always follow the lectionary calendar. So, at this time of year when we come face to face with the hard reality of Advent what are we going to do?
The truth is that Advent is the time of year when we can finally get honest about things. It is the time when we are allowed to name that which is just not right. We can say that trampling a store clerk to get a cheap price on the season’s latest gadget is a societal sickness. It is when we can say that killing in God’s name is wrong and that people matter more than profit. It is a time when we can say that illness and suffering is never God’s will. We can and must say that God is not pleased.
This is a strange practice for most of us. That is why it is a good thing that we have a great cloud of witnesses who have come before us. They have showed us how to survive in a world that needs to be torn apart. It is that time of year again. And so for the duration of advent, what I am calling the ‘Waiting Wall’ will be placed here in the sanctuary. On that board I have placed some headlines from different newspapers in the last week. During advent you are invited to place your own headline, or concern, that you want to lift up to God. It will become our own prayer to God of what needs to be ended in our time. So let us reach back and take the banner from those who have gone before us. Let us prepare our hearts to cry out: “Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down… and consider that we all are your people.” Amen? Amen!

If we had only know...

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
November 23rd 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
“If we had only known…”
Union Council Joint Thanksgiving/ Accessibility Project Dedication
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20 Matthew 25:31-46

In preparation for today I went back through the history of Westminster. Travelling through the pages of our official history, back even before the churches official founding, I was struck by the points of history which were deemed worthy of remembering. I believe what we choose to remember and what we choose to forget can be rather instructive. What are the stories we like to tell about ourselves? For our three churches, we focus on things like; the date of founding, the roles we have played in denominational politics, the good old days when pews and nurseries were packed, and the date when we finally decided that God was serious about welcoming all people into the church.
While this is the way we write about our history, the official way to tell people about our church is to review the last ten years of the annual statistical reports, at least that is how Presbyterians do it. (In case you were unaware the word Presbyterian is Greek for keeper of records.) Now while this might seem like a uniquely Presbyterian disease, consider how we most often describe our churches. We will talk about the good work we are doing but it does not take long before we focus on money, membership, and worship attendance. For Presbyterians, the annual statistical report is rather detailed, but the three items which most people use to determine the health and vitality of a congregation are these: 1) Annual Giving – money 2) Membership, and 3) Worship attendance. So in practice these become the default marks for the true church.
While it is not intended this way these reports become a tool for separating the sheep and the goats. Or at least showing where the spirit of God is assumed to be at work. Now, the hard truth is that according to those numbers, none of our churches are at the top of our respective denominations. But then again, if we follow these markers our denominations are no longer leading those categories. This is not an easy truth to hear but I know it is not news to anyone. So why on earth, on this Thanksgiving Day, this day of dedication, would I try to bring us down with what we already know? Well, I want to reach back into the history of Westminster and suggest we cause some trouble with the keepers of records.
From 1880 until 1914 Westminster worshiped at the sight of the current Fox Theatre. In 1910 the leaders of the church went to the denominational leadership for permission to move to this location. The response was a clear and resounding: “No!” And the denominational leaders were never, never, swayed that Westminster should move to this site. So in 1912 the church voted to move anyway and by 1914 here we were. No matter the motivation I like to believe that this is a story where the followers of Jesus decided that to be faithful they had to break some rules. It is because of their open defiance of their denomination that we are here on this day, dedicating our commitment to be a place for all people.
I like that story and believe it can be an inspiration for continued faithfulness. It is time, not just for Westminster, but for the Union Council churches to make a stand and say that the old rules will no longer apply. Let us stand up and refuse, from this day forward, to measure our faithfulness through the lens of money and members. And when folks demand and accounting for these markers of faithfulness all we need to do is hide behind this scripture from Matthew 25. It might be that simple. Since we are going to hide behind it let us take a closer look.
It is not often that we like to focus on the judgment passages. And this passage is particularly odd. It is odd because the judgment, the separation of sheep and goats, is not based on nationality or race, or gender, or sexuality, or even your denomination. On the surface, this passage seems rather simple, but it is not. What looks like Jesus’ litmus test for who gets into heaven and hell, actually ends up being much more.
The beauty of this text is the reminder that much of where we spend our energy is of little consequence. While the passage is complex, the calling for the follower of Jesus is really simple, if not always easy: Food for the hungry, drinks for the thirsty, welcome for the strangers, clothing for the naked, care for the sick and visiting people in prison. When the sheep are welcomed it is not with these words: You are the righteous because you topped the list of givers, had the largest denominations and worship attendance. Try as I might, I could not find that in this passage. Instead, success, no faithfulness is measured in service.
So, what would happen if when we were asked by our denominational offices or anyone for that matter about the size of our church, and budget, we answered with a litany of how we had provided: Food for the hungry, drinks for the thirsty, welcome for the strangers, clothing for the naked, and care for the sick and visiting people in prison? What if we used this as the litmus test for all that we did in our churches and as part of Union Council? Imagine that today we could decide to start a movement in our denominations that change all the rules about church statistics?
Now there is always a danger in starting a movement. That danger is to become deceived into thinking we are the righteous and everyone else is the dammed. So as we begin our movement today I would like your help in avoiding that pitfall. Can I count on your help? Alright, if you have ever done one of the following things please stand as you are able, or raise your bulletin in the air if you are unable. If you have ever: Fed someone who was hungry, gave a drink to someone who was thirsty, welcomed a stranger, gave clothing to people who needed them, cared for someone who was sick, or visited someone in prison, please stand up. Please remain standing. Alright, now if there was ever a time when you had the opportunity to: Fed someone who was hungry, gave a drink to someone who was thirsty, welcomed a stranger, gave clothing to people who needed them, cared for someone who was sick, or visited someone in prison, and did not do it, please sit down. Thank you for your indulgence. This little exercise is a reminder that the sheep in this passage did not have a clue that they were doing the will of God.
It is an important reminder for those who seek to turn things on their head that just when we think we have it figured out we had better look out. Faithfulness, in this passage, is gauged upon the care of the least of these. Yet, no one was aware that this was the way of faithfulness. It even appears that if the goats would have only known they would have gladly complied. Likewise the sheep seem uninterested in complying with anything. For them it was simply the sort of thing they just did. But we are not the seep or the goats because we have heard this story we know the way of faithfulness and as such we are called to live differently because of this knowledge.
Today, it is a great gift that we can be here dedicating this building at a joint service of worship. Having this many witnesses will make us much more likely that we remain committed to using our facilities to do ministry for the least of these. But it is also my hope that when the next history of our church, and all of our churches, are written that the guiding principles and the lead stories will not be money and membership. But instead it is my hope that we will be held accountable, that our faithfulness will be gauged on: Food for the hungry, drinks for the thirsty, welcome for the strangers, clothing for the naked, and care for the sick and visiting people in prison. And who knows, maybe the next generation will look back upon us and say: “They started a movement.” But let us not just hope. The next time someone asks about your church and they want to know about the money, the membership, or the worship attendance, refuse to participate. Instead, point to the work we are doing with the least of these. Then, gently remind them, and us, that Jesus seemed more interested in these things. Are we ready to start a movement? Amen!