You are a Valued Member of the Body Preached on January 27th, 2019 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a In a general way, I might be considered a health conscious person. But I have to confess that over my lifetime my efforts to maintain a whole and healthy body have been lacking. I have tended to focus on body image, rather than whole body care. My diet and exercise routines have not always been most advantageous for my health. I’ve exercised the body parts that people see, and ignored the parts that go unnoticed. And so, some years ago, when I was taking a yoga class, and the instructor directed us to “thank our feet” for all that they did, I did not pay much attention. When I performed the yoga stretches at home, I’d pass over the ones for feet without a thought. I did not show the gratitude due my feet, for carrying me everywhere I needed to go, in fair weather and foul, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer. My poor abused feet were ignored. And now I am paying for it. Foot pain has become a thing for me, and having been ignored for so long my feet are demanding my attention. I imagine that we all have body parts we have not appreciated enough, until they’ve given us pain or fail us in some way. And I wonder if this is what the Apostle Paul is getting at when he likens the church – in Corinth – and around the world, to a body of many parts, all of which are valuable. The analogy of a body, for a functioning organization, such as a military or political machine, was already understood in the Greco-Roman world. The comparison imagined a hierarchy with a strong a powerful leader, such as a commander or CEO, managing an top-down structure. At the base were the lowly workers, or foot soldiers, who would obey commands without question. Yet, here Paul is turning the image on its head, so to speak. Paul is telling the early church that every member is valuable, regardless of its place in the body. The eye, the ear, the feet, what Paul calls the “less honorable” parts, the heart, the lungs, the kidneys, the pinky toe, are all essential to the healthy function of the body. And this body is to be known as the body of Christ. The Church is to be imagined as Christ’s bodily presence in the world, now that Jesus is no longer physically present in the world. And so, we, the church, are provided with an image in which every member is a body part. Everyone who is a part of the church, whether it is here on Wollaston hill, here in Quincy, or throughout the world, has a valued and unique role to play. No one member is more valuable than another. When one member suffers, like the feet, we – the body - suffer as a whole. Paul presents a counter-cultural idea in an organic image. It is consistent with the teachings of Jesus, who lifted up those who had been ignored and set aside by the community of his time: the poor, the weak, the widows and the children. African American churches practice lifting up of the least of the body at their gatherings, by thanking and celebrating the oldest in attendance and the youngest. We don’t always think about ageism, but perhaps you’ve noticed that in many human systems the power goes to those in their middle years. In spite of Paul’s image, many churches insist that some kind of structure is necessary for organization. Some use a powerful hierarchy with the assumption that those in positions of power will act as “servant leaders” to the members lower in the structure. And we are only too well aware of times when that has not worked out well. Humans, given power and authority with little accountability, rarely live up to the ideal of servant leader. And so, I’m glad that the United Church of Christ favors a non-hierarchical structure. Instead of Bishops, we have Conference Ministers and Associate Conference Ministers, who consult and advise the local churches but rarely lay down the law. The United Church of Christ biannual synod makes various resolutions that local churches are encouraged to follow. But the local church has autonomy within the larger organization. This is because culture of the historical Congregational church was preserved by the UCC. Every member of the local church has a voice in the decisions that are made. And today, as we conduct our Annual Meeting, we will exercise that practice as we vote on the matters at hand. Ideally every member is valued and held as important. During our Annual Meeting, we will also vote in officers of the church, such as the Moderator and the Treasurer; the Stewards – who are responsible for our three ministry areas; and the Deacons. We are always grateful for those are serving or have served: whether they are new, retiring or continuing in their positions. And yet, we know that the work of the whole church is not done only by those in official positions. There are those who do the quiet work of setting out the appropriate paraments for the altar, lectern and pulpit. There are those who maintain the decorative touches in the sanctuary, tending to the flowers on special occasions and the Advent wreath and crèche during the appropriate season. There are those who pick up and take home our elders and members without transportation. There are those who take any opportunity to get busy in the kitchen, washing cups, checking on the refrigerator, and those who signup to bring snacks and make coffee each week. There are those who send cards to their fellow members, who make phone calls when the service is cancelled due to severe weather, those who check in on the ones who cannot be with us when we meet for whatever reason. There were the volunteers who set to and cleaned out the room, upstairs, for the new ministry with “All Hands In” and those who assist Marian with the Powerpoint or read the scriptures during worship. No matter who you are, what kind of a member of the body you are – whether officially a member or by virtue of the fact that you are simply here - we need you and we need one another. Perhaps your sweet singing voice will encourage another person in the pews this morning. Perhaps the celebration or concern you share will spark another member to deepen their prayer life. Perhaps your smile and greeting will help another person feel a little less lonely in the coming week. We all have a part to play. The ideal of everyone having a voice, in a non-hierarchical structure, and everyone having a part to play, sounds lovely. And yet, there is a down side to the United Church of Christ culture. And that is, that sometimes our sense of authority can get a little off balance. Back in the fall, group members of the discussion on the display of the flag in the sanctuary were stumped by the following question: “Who is the head of the United Church of Christ?” Some may have thought of John Dorhauer, the current General Minister and President of the United Church of Christ. Others may pondered, the President of the United States. Neither of these answers is correct. Thankfully, we are not subject to the dramatic shifts of the leadership of our nation. The Apostle Paul does not mention who is the head of the church, in the letter to the Corinthians. A letter to the Colossian Christians, probably written later by a follower of Paul, addresses this question. The author reminds the church that Jesus Christ: “is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything.” (Colossians 1:18) The constitution of the United Church of Christ states : “The United Church of Christ acknowledges as its sole Head, Jesus Christ, Son of God and Savior.” And so, every member has a voice, and every member is valued, and when one member hurts the whole body hurts. And still, thankfully, we – the church – whether in the UCC, or the larger Church throughout the world – ought not to be subject to power play, or human whims or reactivity. Ultimately, we are all called to give authority to Jesus, and diligently seek God’s will. We are to do so in our prayer lives, in our reading of the scriptures, through our reasoning, our traditions, and our experiences. And so, I say to you today, you are a valuable member of the body of Christ. May we all listen to the head, Jesus Christ, and act and speak accordingly for the common good of the church in this place and throughout the world. May all God’s people say, Amen
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The First Sign Preached on January 20th, 2019 On the Wollaston Congregational Church Facebook Page Scripture: John 2:1-11 Today, we departed from the series of readings from Luke’s gospel for a passage from John. And so we have to reorient a little. John’s gospel does not begin with a birth story of Jesus. It has what is known as the prologue, instead. This is a well-known poetic introduction telling readers that John’s gospel is about the incarnation. It is about the Word of God (uppercase W) coming to live among humanity in the person of Jesus. Here is the way John puts it: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.” 1:14 John’s gospel is a gospel of signs: signs of what that incarnation of God’s living Word looks like. Signs that God is with us in Jesus. As we are now in the season of Epiphany - the season of revelation – paying attention to these signs is appropriate. The first sign that took place, in John’s gospel, is at a wedding in Cana. Jesus, his newly called disciples and Jesus’ mother are among the guests. And it seems that Jesus is content to be a guest. He has no expectation of showing a special sign. When his mother tells him the wine has run out, he replies “Woman, what concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come.” He is reluctant to begin showing signs of God’s glory, even though the disciples have been recruited and are ready to go. It takes just a little push from his mother to set things in motion. And so she simply ignores his objection, and prompts the servants to do whatever he tells them. To say that this is the first revelation of God’s glory by Jesus, it is done quietly. Mary, like women often do, has noticed something not yet known by the other guests. She has seen the servants scurrying back and forth from the wine storage area. She has overheard them whispering anxiously to the steward. She knows what an embarrassment this would be for the groom: a failure of hospitality. And, somehow, she knows that Jesus can do something about this. He may not think his time has come, but she knows that it has. This sign is not witnessed by the groom or bride, nor by the most distinguished guests at the party. The servants are the ones to fill the 6 huge jars with water. The water is not for drinking, it is for ritual cleansing – washing up before a meal. As instructed by Jesus, the servants draw a cup from one of the jars and take it to the steward. He takes the first sip of the finest wine he has ever tasted. The disciples see the whole thing. The confused steward calls the bridegroom, remarking on this strange etiquette. Usually the best wine would be served at the beginning of the feast and inferior wine for when the guests are drunk. Yet, it seems that this host has saved the best wine for last. The first sign. You may know that I spent a vacation, last week, in the beautiful walled city of Cartagena, Colombia. I learned that Cartagena declared independence from Spain and the rest of Colombia on November 11th, 1811. Spain resisted, of course, and over the next 10 years many residents of Cartagena lost their lives due to sieges and battles. Even so, Catagenans claim the 1811 date (100 years before Colombia’s independence) as the time when people of all races became equal citizens. Life in Cartagena is far from perfect. 27% of Cartagena lives in poverty and 4.1% in extreme poverty and 20% of births are from teenaged mothers. These statistics were shared with us by a social enterprise café we visited. What is wonderful about Cartagena is the night life. Once the sun sets over the Caribbean sea, people come out to walk in the streets. There are many tranquil city squares, often with their own neighborhood church, lush shade trees, gorgeous flowers and benches to sit. The late evening masses spill out onto the squares, which fill up with musicians and street vendors selling goods, food and drink. Older men play chess in the street. Children run and play. People of all ages sing and dance. You see people descended from African slaves, people from Indigenous groups, people who look western European and blends of all these. People are simply together, walking, talking, selling, singing and dancing. Beer and cocktails are available in the local bars and restaurants. But we met very few people who seemed drunk on alcohol. It’s a party every night. The coming together - the sights and sound, the aromas and flavors are enough to fill you. The Cartagena’s evening scene reminds me of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream Speech” and his ideal of a “Beloved Community.” Dr. King’s speeches did not claim a victory, in which his own people would be lifted up at the expense of others. Instead he perceived that the civil rights movement’s acts of nonviolent resistance would result in a wonderful day, when justice would “[roll] down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” [1] Dr. King went on “I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, that one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.” Dr. King dreamed of a day when the people of Alabama – the people of the United States – the people of the world - would come together in Beloved Community. It was a dream of a wedding feast of sorts, all the community gathered – in which everyone would belong. Everyone from the youngest to the oldest, of every skin color, every shape and size, every sexual orientation and gender identity, every socioeconomic group would feel safe. Both the evening scene in Cartagena and the Beloved Community of MLK’s dreams feel like the wedding feast in Cana. There is joy, and it is joy over coming together. In the case of a wedding feast, the bride and the bridegroom come together. In a 1st century wedding, and today, that means that two families also join together. A wedding feast is celebrated with the best food and wine the families can afford: all to celebrate the union. In the case of MLK’s Beloved Community, people come together on a grand scale. It is the union of people who had been separated before, by the sin of racism, the practice of segregation, the fear of the other. With the coming of that wonderful wedding day, I am sure, the fine wine of the presence of Jesus will flow in abundance. In Cartagena, the people we met were well aware that they have work to do to lift up the poor, to provide education for all children, and to address the pressing social issues. There was a sign in the reception area of the hotel where we stayed with a phone number for guests to call and report situations of sexual exploitation. And, yet, the Cartagenans seemed unable to resist the celebration of life, and coming together of all their people each evening. In these intoxicating celebrations, it’s easy to imagine the finest wine, the wine presence of Jesus, flowing in and amongst the party. Here in chilly Massachusetts, though, there is a snow and ice storm. There will be no partying in the streets for us today. There will not even be a worship service and coffee hour. But, I invite you to imagine the kind of wedding feasts we can plan for the future …. in our church sanctuary, in the social hall below, spilling out onto Winthrop and Lincoln Ave. Who will come together? What unions will we celebrate? Can you see the sign? The sign that the Jesus is among us? It will be a coming together of all peoples, a party in the streets and a wedding celebration, at which Jesus – the host, the bridegroom, the wedding guest all rolled into one – provides the finest wine we’ve ever tasted. Amen [1] http://www.let.rug.nl/usa/documents/1951-/martin-luther-kings-i-have-a-dream-speech-august-28-1963.php Welcoming Star Seekers Preached at the Inter-Church Council of Wollaston and North Quincy “Feast of Lights” Epiphany Service on January 6th, 2019 at Sacred Heart Parish, Quincy Scripture: Matthew 2:1-12 This is our 43rd time of reading the ancient story of the Epiphany together. The star, the wise men, the holy family, are gathered in tableau again. And the readings, the music, the hymns, the candle light warm our hearts and the ancient story continues to speak to us. And so, let us visit Jerusalem in Judea, once more, and listen to what the wise men have to tell us. You will remember that the magi, or the wise men, come from the East. They are the ones who observe the heavenly bodies looking for signs and portents. Buried somewhere in their ancient writings, there is a prophecy that links this particular star with a momentous event in human history. They know this means the coming of a new king for the Jewish people who live to their west. This nation has a reputation throughout the ancient world, as people of the book. Their revelation comes to them through prophecies and scriptures. They are learned and respected, their ancient religion is tolerated by the Roman Empire. And yet, the Jewish people are oppressed and undermined by the Romans who occupy their land. Judea is ruled by King Herod, who pays only lip service to the requirements of Judaism. He resides in the palace in Jerusalem, and is a puppet king for Rome, compliant with the occupiers who indulge his appetites. The magi journey westward for weeks, with a camel caravan of travelers. The star they followed to Jerusalem is no longer visible. Perhaps it is daytime, or the lights of the city obscure the night sky. They stop here at the palace and consult with the current ruler of the Jews. Wouldn’t King Herod by overjoyed to hear of the coming king, a child, who is going to shepherd all of Israel? The guards at the gate survey the magi with suspicion. Offerings from their treasure chest buy them an audience with the king. Herod languishes on his plush couch listening with half an ear to the magi’s story of a guiding star, his ears prick when he hears the words “new king of the Jews.” Herod is not at all overjoyed. These words arouse his deepest fears. He knows, in his heart, he has been acting against the God of Israel. The magi are taken to a waiting room, not even offered a cup of water. Meanwhile Herod nervously consults the chief priests and scribes to see what they know. Ancient writings tell that the anointed one is expected to be born in Bethlehem of Judea, just a few miles outside of Jerusalem. Herod calls back the magi and asks them to search carefully for the child, and to return to the palace to tell Herod where to find him. Herod feigns devotion, but he is plotting something sinister. The magi return to the road. As they turn in the direction of Bethlehem the star appears again. It leads them right to the humble home where Mary, Joseph and Jesus live. The parents are astonished to see these dignified travelers arrive at their doorway. They appear as foreign kings, and the young parents are intimidated. And yet with characteristic Middle Eastern hospitality they invite them in. Mary pours tea, and offers them a share of their simple supper. As the magi stoop to enter the humble home, they are overcome with joy. Here is what they are seeking: a little child, squirming in Mary’s lap. Their eyes fill with tears and they kneel on the dirt floor, worshipping the infant. They are moved to open their treasure chest, exposing all that they possess. They offer precious gifts: the items look incongruous in the simple home of human love. Once the magi recover their composure, they tell stories of their distant homelands and their journeys to this place. Mary and Joseph are amazed to hear of the star that led them, and wonder what all this could mean. The magi take a room in the local inn. They are exhausted and filled with peace. As they sleep God warns not to return to Herod. There’s no need for the warning, though. The magi’s hearts were warmed in the humble house, which felt like the home they never knew. The cold palace seems a million miles away. It is the wrong place to take news of a vulnerable infant king. And so they leave for their own country by another road. As they travel, they reflect back on their visit. In the palace they had found a paranoid ruler, curious about the “newborn king.” Still he was too lazy to get off the couch and go down the road to Bethlehem and see for himself. The religious people who surrounded the king had found some esoteric knowledge to guide the seekers on their quest. But these experts also seem unmotivated to make the trip to Bethlehem. “Let us know how you make out … come back and tell us when you find him,” they say. And then they return to their temple finance meeting. Then the magi remember the aroma of a homey stew, in the humble home. They recall Mary is balancing the baby on her hip as she stirred the pot, and Joseph, inviting them in to sit with him and talk. They had never been in such a place, and yet it felt like home from the moment they entered. I so I wonder, do our churches, our places of worship, have the potential to be either Herod’s palace or the holy family’s humble home? Recently, at Wollaston Congregational Church, we seem to have been entertaining a number of star seekers. They often come in disguise, but they are always seeking something. They may have caught a vision, somewhere along the road in the dark night, that inspires them to broach our doorway. They come convinced that our community, gathered around Jesus is what they need in their lives. Seekers can be idealistic about the church, and sometimes they are disappointed to find that we are simply flawed human beings. They frequently come with visions of stars and holy messages about how we might live more deeply into our call to be the church. They inspire us to reach out to the poor and marginalized, they remind us of the plight of those we think of as “other”, they tell us their own stories of exclusion and pain. Some of these seekers sit through their first worship service, and silently leave never to return. Others engage quickly and tell us about their life experiences, and of the spiritual journey they took to arrive at our door. Some know what they are looking for, and some do not. Sometimes they seem to find it with us. They inspire us with their vision, especially if we continue the journey together. On our best days, our church is a warm homey place, with a stew on the stove, and wide-open arms, welcoming the travelers in. Right now, we are sensing a dramatic shift in our culture, but we embrace it. We focus on new beginnings and opportunities, and are willing to let go of the past. But on our not-so-good days, we are taken up with our worries and fears. We find the cultural shifts frightening, we operate out from a sense of scarcity. We fear don’t have enough volunteers to fill all the openings, our building is falling down around us. We lament the loss of things past. Sometimes we’re so preoccupied with our fears for the future, that we barely notice the seekers poking their nose in the door. On days like these, they may depart to look elsewhere for the light. Our hope, of course, is to be warm, open and welcoming every day. Our hope is to keep a look out from our doorway, into the dark night for star seekers. After all, these guests may be the ones who lead us into the new era, with a vision for what God would have us do. I hope that if we remember our commitment of hospitality to the stranger, remembering our covenant to listen to where God is leading us, we will maintain a hopeful, welcoming outlook. I wonder if magi seekers visited North Quincy and Wollaston some 43 years ago. I wonder if their vision was set upon the star of ecumenism: all the churches coming together in a hospitable way. Perhaps they inspired the Quincy churches to create places of shelter for the hungry and the homeless; places of security for those who were experiencing domestic violence and other crises. These ministries are alive and flourishing still today. As we look back on our years together, hearing the story of the magi seekers, year after year, I wonder where the seekers’ vision is set these days. We cannot know unless we welcome them in. And so, this afternoon, may we imagine our churches both singly and jointly as places where many magi seekers may stop and rest. May we be free from fear – of what is coming next - so that we allow them to bring their own vision of the Christ child among us. Amen |
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