Learning to Let Go

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

February 22^nd 2008

Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller

“Learning to Let Go”

2 Kings 2:1-13

Whether we were physically present at the Presidential Inauguration or not, and no matter your political persuasion, the way in which power is transferred is almost always an impressive ritual. And while this year much was made about each detail and who was included and in what capacity, in the ritual. No matter what, the event is newsworthy. But despite the ritual, Barak Obama because President by law, at noon, before he was officially sworn in. But, without the ritual somehow it just doesn’t feel right. In fact, because he made a mistake in his first swearing-in of a President, Chief Justice John Roberts left some people wondering if Barack Obama was really the President. In an attempt to end the speculation the White House called the Chief Justice just to cover all the bases. The only record of this event is one picture, much to the consternation of the White House press corps. While it seemed a lot like sour grapes for not being included, the complaints may have been rooted in the human need for the appropriate pomp and circumstance. “If they did not follow the proper and public ritual, surely this was not a real transfer of power.” There is something important about the proper ritual and protocol being followed. However, the transfer of power in this morning’s scripture is quite a failure along those lines. But despite lacking all the pomp and circumstance, it is a transfer of power of greater implication.

This transfer of power from Elijah to Elisha is not only a contrast to our recent inauguration but even more so to the Royal power in ancient Israel. Throughout the book of Kings, Elijah has been a living contrast between Torah faithfulness and Royal practice. Though they do not take center stage the company of prophets, which Elijah and Elisha encounter in each city, are also an ongoing challenge to royal authority. The order of prophets was faithful to Torah and followed Elijah. They operated outside the control of royal power structures. In other words, they were not prophets on the payroll. Instead they were a living witness for God.

The transfer of authority from one prophet to the other even occurs outside of the political boundaries. At the end of his farewell tour Elijah crosses the Jordan ignoring the political boundary. The contrast continues because there was also a royal succession occurring at the same time. Actually, the scene occurs after the passing of one king but before the new king ascends to power. God’s power and God’s prophets are not even bound by Royal time.

Even the succession of leadership breaks with convention. In royal time the King picks his successor, most often his first born son. However, when asked by Elisha to succeed him Elijah simply responds; if it is God’s will then it will happen and if not, so be it. By conventional standards it can seem reckless for one leader not to be concerned with the succession of power. But Elijah is content to trust that God can be trusted. But the last and most extraordinary contrast is that the transfer of power occurs outside the view of anyone. No one, not even the company of prophets sees what happens. Without a photo can you imagine the complaining of the royal press corps?! Throughout the scene we are given the message that God is going to work in the most unexpected ways.

This is something the Elijah obviously understands. On his farewell tour going from city to city he does not lobby for his followers to give their loyalty to Elisha. Elijah makes no attempt to ensure his legacy or establish control once he is no longer in power. Elijah seems to understand that any attempt along those lines shows a lack of trust in the ways of God. Elijah trusts God enough to let go of preconceived notions of what God ought to do. In other words, God is still faithful and can be trusted. It is a trust built upon deep knowledge of God’s actions.

It is on this point that we, as people of faith, have the most difficulty. In refusing to let go we end up domesticating God. It is not a conscience act but one that occurs as a result of familiarity and location. There is nothing wrong with familiarity. We should have an intimate knowledge of God and how God works. We must remember that God most often acts in places like deserts and exile and even outside the bounds of conventional or royal boundaries. But having this knowledge without a willingness to venture into unfamiliar locations or risk trusting God’s strange ways puts us at risk of domesticating God. Knowledge that God works in the desert places of life inside the walls of an established denomination or church setting is just too risky. However, when we do this, and we all do – myself included – we end up unable and even unwilling to trust God in the passing of the mantle.

While Elisha receives the mantle of Elijah he does not receive it from Elijah, instead it comes from God. It shows Elijah’s faithfulness to the very end. He gives the greatest gift of all. Elijah is a witness to faithfulness right to the very end of his life. As Presbyterians we have often been accused of not being good at passing the mantle, too much process and not enough trusting the spirit. But I believe that our process at its best is quite faithful, if we allow it. We do things by committee, when people of differing views and understandings come together to pray and discern the workings of the spirit in our time and place. Unlike non-profit organizations and business, the church’s goal is not about completing our prepared tasks but instead to seek God’s will, which is not always an easy thing. It requires trust and patience and most importantly a willingness to let go when we are no longer in power. The best gift we can give to one another is the demand that our process – our life together be built upon being attune to the work of the spirit. God is going to choose whom God will choose to serve and to lead. Our faithfulness depends on our ability to remind each other that the outcome may just surprise us. But, no matter what may come, God can still be trusted. Amen? Amen.

You Want Me to Do What?

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

February 15^th 2008

Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller

“You want me to do what?”

II Kings 5:1-14

Looking back over my calendar this past week I noticed that is has been five weeks since I last preached. Considering that fact it might seem odd to come back a preach two weeks from the book of Kings. It is probably safe to assume that few, if any of us have heard a sermon from these books. Given that reality then it is also safe to assume that my use of these texts says that there might be some hidden gem or I just want to know how well you can stay awake this morning.

By way of confession I do have a natural aversion to the book of kings which is not really all that logical. It all begins with the title, for a long time I ignored this book because I read the title and assumed too much. When I, or any of us, “judge this book by its cover,” the book of kings can seem like a long litany about the succession of kings in Judah and Israel. And while the book of kings does talk succession there is another witness which bears hearing. At its heart the books of Kings there is a story about the importance of the Torah over the temple, the worship of one God over many, and how often truth is found in the most unlikely places. In these books we find a world that is on the verge of social collapse and uncertainty about tomorrow mostly because of the greed and short-sightedness of the elite. I suppose it could be considered a bit contemporary. And, in the middle of this social unrest is a story of how God is still faithful and can be trusted.

Part of the power of this story is the repeated truth that Kings do not have the last or most important word. A powerful voice in this text comes by way of the prophets who do not reside inside the halls of power. The prophet Elisha, the wilderness prophet, is brought once again to center stage in our morning’s scripture. Next week we will learn how Elisha learned the ways of faithfulness. But this week we see him at full stature. When Naaman comes seeking this wilderness prophet, Elisha has already served in the places of power and with those on the margins of society. Throughout his journey Elisha never forgets that faithfulness to God alone means speaking the truth no matter the location or person.

Naaman is the sort of figure who people naturally would notice. He is a great military hero who walks the halls of power. But he suffers from a dreaded social disease. Despite his great military prowess he is not fully acceptable to the social world in which he walks. Despite access to all the resources he might need, this successful man cannot find healing and wholeness. Finally, in what looks to be desperation, Naaman decides to listen to the voice of a Hebrew slave. This great Syrian General finds himself asking his king for permission to seek alternative medicine in a foreign land.

The journey to healing for Naaman is not what he expects. Despite hearing about a wilderness prophet he decides to seek him out in the places of power. After arranging an official state visit Naaman enters the court of Israel’s King. Much to his surprise, and the King’s terror, healing is not found in the palace. Instead Naaman must travel to an out of the way place. The impressive group, with all its’ pomp and parade, head to the desert.

Naaman’s second surprise is that this miracle man will not even come out to see the great general! What was the prophet thinking? Does he not understand proper protocol? Or did his time with the King as royal prophet teach him that Naaman’s need for healing that goes well beyond the physical illness?

When Naaman is given the message that healing for him comes by washing in the muddy Jordan it is the last straw. Elisha has not offered the proper respect and does not offer a healing befitting one of the ages’ great generals. Fortunately, the scorned general does listen to the voice of an unnamed advisor. Because of his willingness to humble himself, by listening to the unnamed advisor and the strange wilderness healer, Naaman finds healing and restoration beyond his wildest imagination.

When Naaman is brought to wholeness he is overcome with joy and wants to pay for service rendered. Elisha will have none of it. After all, God’s healing is not for sale, despite reports to the contrary. Naaman not only expresses his gratitude but makes a profession of faith. This is no small act given that Naaman is from Syria and has spent his life in service to his nations Gods. However, this faith conversion does not turn out to be a story of “happily-ever-after.”

Naaman seems to know the perils that lie before him. He must now return to his home confronted with ever present questions. As a result of his healing, will he operate in the world of power politics in a new way? Will he listen to the voice of those without power? Will he reconsider the givens of his world and continue to look for healing in unexpected places? I believe the two mule loads of dirt that Naaman requests to take with him is a sign that he will seek to answer these questions in the affirmative.

While this may seem like a rather odd story about reversal of fortunes and strange wilderness healing, it is a contemporary story. As people who come to faith through Jesus, we too are invited to face the same questions which journeyed with Naaman the rest of his life. Having been offered healing and wholeness in Jesus will live in a world dominated by power politics in a new way? Will we listen; really listen to the voice of those without access? And will we continue to look for healing, for ourselves and others, in unexpected places? These are indeed contemporary questions. After all we too live in a time when the greed of a few has left the social fabric in tatters. As we face the uncertainty of tomorrow, let us find humility and those couple of loads of dirty which will remind us that God is still faithful and can be trusted. Amen? Amen.

Baby Trouble

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
January 4th 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
“Baby Trouble”
Epiphany Sunday
Communion Sunday
Isaiah 60:1-6; Mark 2:1-18

By the time Epiphany arrives most of us are too tired from Christmas to take much notice. If you are anything like me, there is something strangely satisfying about getting all the Christmas decorations put away. It may be due to the ever lengthening Christmas Season. But whatever the reason, once Christmas day is over, most of us are ready to move on. However in the church Christmas lasts until Epiphany. The celebration of the visitation of the Magi is a celebration most of us have little energy to acknowledge. As a result this part of Christmas gets left out.
Leaving out Epiphany can create the belief that Christmas is an entirely happy occasion. Even the lectionary reading for Epiphany ends with the Magi going home by a different road. The death of the baby boys under the age of two is absent. This exclusion has real life consequences. When we detach Christmas from the resistance of Herod to the birth of Jesus’ Christianity can easily become an overly privatized affair. However, if we consider the entire story of the Magi’s visit we learn that privatized faith is not the intent of Christmas.
The Magi, these visitors from the East are strange folks who were not always well liked or even trusted. They did strange things like listen to dreams and watch stars. The Magi might very well be referred to a spiritual people but not religious. Yet, God chose to speak to and through them in order to announce that a new king had been born. It was not through the religiously faithful or the professional religious folks; instead it took an outsider to see what everyone else could not.
Now while these Magi may have been spiritually astute they do not seem to be particularly politically savvy. After all, they search out the current King to ask about his replacement. The news of this sends shockwaves through all of Jerusalem. The center of the religious and political establishment never takes change as welcome news. In order to deal with baby trouble, Herod speaks with the Magi at night and issues his “secret memo:” When you find the child let me know so I may worship him.
When the Magi find the child they worship him and then listen to a new dream. The Magi return home by another way. Because they trusted dreams more than they feared political power. Their faithfulness allowed Joseph to take his family to safety. It is an impressive faithfulness for folks raised outside the faith.
The lectionary ends with the Magi going home by a different route. But the story is only half complete. Herod flies into a rage knowing that he was tricked by people who followed stars and listened to dreams. (It must have been rather embarrassing.) What Herod does next is horrifying, or at least is should be for those who celebrated the birth of the baby. In order to maintain his power and to bring calm to Jerusalem Herod orders all male babies, under the age of two, murdered. I suppose leaving this part out of the story does make it easier to enjoy a nativity scene.
If you are looking for some solace or way out of this difficult reality there is one, at least sort of. Historians and biblical scholars have concluded that this mass slaughter did not occur. It is believed that if this had indeed occurred that some record would have been kept. Instead, we are told that this passage is to be read as metaphor for the slaughter of babies in Egypt. But I have a different take on things. I do not believe there has to be an either or in this situation. While it is important to know that all those whom God has chosen, have never been welcomed with open arms by the powerful, there is something else we ought to consider.
Is it really so outside the realm of possibility that an event of this nature occur and there be no record? Consider for a few moments that we no longer live in an age where civilian casualties are a major concern. If you think I am overstating the case consider that a new report shows that in our modern wars- post-Vietnam - that ninety percent of all casualties of war are non-combatants, civilians. I will give you a moment to let that sink in. It is no longer the policy of our own nation to keep track of the death of combatants let alone civilians. We live in a time now where we can imagine that these deaths would even go unnoticed. It may be hard to hear but right now most of us have no idea how many civilian casualties have occurred in Iraq or Afghanistan or in Gaza, just to name the most well known conflicts. It is hard to hear these things and even harder to speak them. But they are unacceptable to those of us whose birth caused the destruction of life so serve the political needs of those in charge.
There is no doubt that this text is dealing with larger than life issues. Many of which we really have no power to change. However, I do believe it has much to teach us about living faithfully in this world. It is true that we live in a world where innocent people die in massive numbers. We do know an age where religious leaders act in ways that are less than faithful. And we do know something about politicians who offer secret memos to magi. So who shall we look to for faithful living? The odd twist in this passage is that the faithful ones are those who watch stars and listen to dreams. It is the Magi and Joseph who point us to the way of faithfulness. To remain faithfully engaged in our fragmented world we must take our cues from the odd and unusual places. We must remain faithful to the strange ways in which God is at work in the world. We may not be able to change the course of history by our access to the places of power, but we might be able to change the world when we listen to the voice that says: “Go home by another way!” Amen? Amen!

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.