Spoiler Alert … Love Wins! Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On February 26th, 2017 Scripture: Matthew 17:1-9 If there had been such a thing as spoiler alerts, during the time when the Bible had been put together, they would have been sprinkled all over the text. The Bible simply isn’t a book to read if you’re looking for a surprise ending. If there’s anything worse than a spoiler alert during, say a murder mystery, telling the final score before the end of a sports game must qualify. Imagine if, during the first quarter of the Super Bowl earlier this month, someone leaned across the couch, nudged you on the knee and whispered “Oh, by the way … the Pats win.” The spoiler situation of the Bible is exaggerated by the order in which we read the stories, especially at this time of year. As we reach the end of the season of Epiphany today, we read a story that takes place toward the end of Jesus’ ministry. Next week, as we begin Lent, we will be rewinding the story to the beginning. So you can see, sometimes we even read the end before the beginning. In the case of this week’s reading, the story is to give us a hint of the end. It’s quite right for us to read this episode before we enter the darker period of Lent. It is a story that will perhaps sustain us, when events are troubling. Perhaps this episode also sustained the disciples who witnessed it, during their very dark days. It’s a story that, in the first quarter, leans across the couch, nudges you on the knee and whispers “Oh, by the way … love wins.” In the chapter preceding our reading for today, Peter, the disciple, has finally proclaimed that he believes Jesus is the Messiah. He is the long-awaited one from God, come to make all things right. At this proclamation, Jesus blesses Peter for his understanding, but he also begins to show the disciples what being the Messiah means. He reveals that he is heading for Jerusalem. And once he is there, he will suffer at the hands of the religious authorities, he will be killed and will be raised on the third day. This is not good news for the disciples, especially Peter. Naturally, he wants to prevent this outcome. But Peter is rebuked in the sternest terms by Jesus, who reminds them all that to follow him they must “take up their cross.” Six days later, Jesus brings Peter with James and John up on a high mountain. In that silent place, they are far removed for the day to day activities in the valley below. They are beyond the reach of the sounds of children playing, beyond bustle of the marketplace, beyond the bleating and braying of animals. As the wind whips their faces and the sun shines harsh in their eyes, Jesus is transformed. His aura and his body shine so brilliantly they can barely look, the light radiates right through his clothing. And then the vision expands to include Moses, the one who first received the law from God, and Elijah, the greatest of the prophets. Peter tries to move swiftly to capture the moment. He suggests that they build shelters for the three of them. But he is interrupted. A bright cloud overshadows them, and echoes the words that were heard at Jesus’s baptism. They hear, booming from heaven “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” The disciples are over-awed, overwhelmed and fall prostrate to the ground. It is the only posture possible in the raw presence of God. The next thing they know, Jesus is touching them on the shoulder, saying “Get up and do not be afraid.” The apparitions are gone. Jesus’ glow is back to normal. Just as quickly as it came on, this God-moment has evaporated. It was all that their mortal bodies could tolerate this side of heaven. They have seen the end of the story: far beyond the suffering in Jerusalem, beyond even the resurrection of Christ. They have seen Jesus’ coming in glory. It’s the punch line, where love wins. And so, it is curious, as they depart the mountain, that Jesus warns them to tell no one about the vision until he has been raised from the dead. God-moments, mountain top experiences, inevitably produce awe in us. Just recently I have been thinking of awe as a common experience among all people. Or at least among all people who are willing to entertain the holy, the spiritual, or the magnificence of the universe. Just a few weeks ago, when I was on vacation in Hawaii with my family, I experienced a communal awe-filled experience, on the peak of the volcano, Haleakala, in Maui. Fortunately, jet lag helped us to wake well before dawn, and begin the tourists’ pilgrimage to the mountain. A line of cars, headlights on, traced the winding road leading up. It was a strange meeting of ancient and modern, tour buses and rental cars ascending to witness this sight that has been blessing Maui since the island rose out of the ocean. By the time we arrived a large crowd of visitors was already assembled, shivering in the chilly air. Groups were chatting, and seeking out the best views, but the general mood was quiet. Occasionally a child whimpered or cried. And the folks all shuffled around, seeking out the higher ground, setting up camera tripods, and checking out selfies. Finally the moment arrived. Even though it was anticipated, it was indeed breathtaking, even awe inspiring. A park ranger began a traditional chant, the mountain is a sacred place for the native people. The myriad colors of the emerging sun’s rays reflected off the clouds that had settled below the peak like a veil. It was a staggering moment of beauty, coming forth from our amazing universe. It was something that all people could share: Jews and Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists, Christians and Atheists, Spiritual-but-not-Religious and people of earth religions. But, for me, one thing was missing, as the moment was over and people found their way back to their buses and cars. There was no hand on the shoulder, no “do not be afraid”, no touch of Jesus in the flesh. And so I missed being in church that day. I missed breaking bread and putting it into your hands. I missed connecting my eyes with yours as we smile, or laugh or weep together. I missed the handshakes and the hugs, the connections over coffee. I missed greeting one another at the door. I missed visiting a recuperating member’s home and finding two of you already over there, providing help and support. I missed the touch of holding hands with one of our elders in the nursing home, who can no longer speak. This is the distinction of our Christian faith, the thing we can lift up as our own. While the disciples receive a vision of the end of the story, Jesus cautions them not to tell about it. Perhaps the reason for that is that he doesn’t want the other followers to become distracted. The focus of his ministry over the coming weeks will be all about being in the flesh. Jesus will touch and heal the sick, Jesus will teach through stories and parables of everyday life. Jesus will ride a donkey and overturn tables in the temple. He will break bread for the disciples, share a cup of wine with, and finally he will be taken to the cross. None of these things will be done by a transformed and radiant Christ. All of these things will be done by God-in-the flesh Jesus. And that is how we will know what love-wins looks like. And so, it is the in-the-flesh, gathered community that most often brings God close, in the world. It is the meeting of hands and eyes, of breaking bread, and eating together. That is how we will get to the time and place where love wins. That said, I seek out and actively practice solitary spiritual practices. Most days, I begin with a routine of yoga stretches,Taizé chants and study of scripture. A bizarre combination, I know. I visit my spiritual director once monthly, where we find the presence of God in the silence. I need these God-moments to sustain me, just as much as the ones that come from communion with one another. What God-moments sustain you? The Bible passage has already told us the story’s end, but it has not told us how we will get there. And so, next week we will begin our journey with Jesus. It will be with Jesus in the flesh and blood, laughing and weeping, rejoicing and suffering. We’ll walk alongside him, as far as we are able. But, I suspect that we will reach a point when it is too much for us, and then Jesus will go on alone. We’ll meet him again on the other side, on Easter morning. So let’s say our last alleluias for the risen One among us and the glorified One who we will see at the end of all things: Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! And when the going gets tough, remember -- spoiler alert ---- love wins! Let all the people say, Amen
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Be Perfect? Right. Preached at the Wollaston Congregational Church On February 19th, 2017 Scripture: Matthew 5:38-48 We have been reading from the Sermon on the Mount for the past several weeks. This is a lengthy section of Matthew’s gospel, in which Jesus teaches his disciples and the crowds who have gathered around on a hillside. It is the core of Jesus teaching, interpreting and building on the Jewish law of his religious tradition. The Sermon on the Mount is the lens through which many Christian theologians interpret all other biblical scripture. The passage we read this morning breaks down into three sections… The first part has three well known sayings of Jesus. They could be thought of as catch-phrases. They’re a little weird, definitely Jesus-y. “Turn the other cheek … give your cloak as well as your coat … go the extra mile” The second section, as I see it, is the command “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” This must be among the most widely known verses in the Bible. It doesn’t come up much in popular lists of inspirational verses. That probably does not surprise you. This command is challenging to say the least, and offensive for many. How is that even possible – to love an enemy? Am I supposed to love the student who bullied my child in middle school? Am I supposed to love the one who assaulted my daughter in college? Am I supposed to love the dealer who sold my beloved the fatal dose? Or the gang member whose stray bullet killed my grandchild? Or the drunk driver that crashed into the car of my now disabled sister? How can Jesus possibly ask this of us? Then, in the final section, Jesus rounds the passage off with a lesser-known instruction: “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” So, just in case turning the other cheek, loving you enemy, and praying for your persecutors was too easy, here is a command to be perfect. Right. There’s a lot to unpack. I had thought that I would pick just one of these sections as the theme for the sermon today. I thought I’d need to narrow down the scope. Yet as time went on, I realized that we need the first section, the Jesus-y catch phrases, to understand the call to love enemies. And to understand any of it, I think we need to have some understanding of who Jesus is, too. We need to understand what Jesus’ life tells us about what it means to be perfect, as the heavenly Father is perfect. So … let’s begin with those catch phrases. As we will see, they are not so much catch phrases as strategies. As always, we begin with context. Because Jesus is teaching his disciples in the very specific context of 1st century Palestine and Roman occupation. The first strategy is: “if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.” This is best illustrated by acting out the scene. Is anyone willing to volunteer? <Name>, how am I going to strike you on the right cheek, (I can’t use my left hand, that’s reserved for something else)? If I was in a fist fight with you, my punch would land on your right cheek. It is only by means of a backhanded slap that I would hit your left cheek. In Jesus’ culture, a back handed slap is a rebuke or an insult. It is the way a master would slap and slave, or the way a husband would beat a wife. So, how do you respond? You could cower, shamed and submissive. Or you could stand your ground. Which would take the most courage? Turn your cheek <Name>, now what am I going to do? Do I get embroiled in an undignified fist fight, or walk away acknowledging your dignity? Now the next strategy: “if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well.” I won’t ask anyone to act this one out, because it involves removing your only two garments: your cloak and your undergarment. If you are indebted to me I have a right to take your cloak as collateral. But if it is your only means of keeping warm, I should return it to you for the nighttime. Let’s imagine I am wealthy in a position to make you a loan. Like before, I’m in a position of power and respect. Perhaps I’m known for giving a payday loans. You must be poor, if your cloak is your only option for collateral. I demand it of you, though, and so instead of refusing, you insist of giving me both your garments. You strip naked for all to see. In Jesus’ time the shame was on the ones who saw nakedness, not on the naked one. And so here the one who is exposed, is the one who would strip the poor naked simply to become richer. And then the final strategy: “if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.” At the time of Jesus, Rome did not have sufficient “troops on the ground”, so local civilians could be pressed into service. One rule was that a soldier could recruit a man on the street to carry his pack for him for one mile. This was done frequently, and the rule was frequently violated, so that people were forced to carry loads much further. But, the rule about only one mile is widely known among the military. For the civilian to cheerfully offer to carry the pack an extra distance throws the soldier off guard. Is it an insult to his strength or manhood? Is the civilian being kind? Is he trying to get the soldier into trouble? The civilian has no choice but to carry the pack the first mile, offering to go the second mile is his own choice. This puts him in a position of power.[1] So, in these strategies, Jesus seems to be saying that the disciples are not supposed to take abuse lying down. They are not supposed to experience injustice without drawing attention to it. These strategies were adopted, centuries later by the non-violent resistance movements of Monhandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. I think of the carefully rehearsed lunch counter sit-ins of the civil rights era as perfect examples. These strategies are not passive, and they do not accept violence and abuse as normal. They are techniques that hold up a mirror for the “evildoer.” They show that individual, or that system, what their actions look through the eyes of God. Loving your enemy might well mean turning the cheek, offering the coat, going the extra mile. But the objective is always justice, especially for those who have less power in the equation. It isn’t loving, in God’s eyes, to enable someone commit any kind of violence. And it is certainly not loving, in God’s eyes, to enable someone to abuse you, as a child of God. When we come to the question of loving our enemy, we might well ask the question “what does that look like?” And this is where Jesus comes in. Because Jesus is what that looks like. Jesus teaches on the mountain, with stories and with examples, but he also teaches by using the actions of his life. As his ministry goes on, Jesus moves steadily toward Jerusalem. He knows that this is a dangerous destination, especially as he preaches the strategies of nonviolent resistance and radical love of enemies. And so, in the end, he is arrested, he is stripped. He is slapped. And as the soldiers take him to be crucified, they press Simon of Cyrene into service, to carry Jesus’ cross to the site. This is what love looks like. This is what being perfect looks like. There are not many people who have had the courage to enact this kind of love, but there are some. These people, of course, have not been perfect in every way. I don’t think that is what Jesus saying here. But, they have followed the path of love, love for enemies and persecutors. One example that comes to mind is that of Janet Connors from Dorchester, MA. In 2001 Janet’s son, Joel, was stabbed to death, and two young men went to prison for the crime. But Janet did not let depression and vengeance into her life. Instead she began a victim-offender dialogue through the prison system. She began writing to and visiting her son’s murderer, and eventually when young man was released from prison, she and he visited Joel’s grave together. Today, Janet Connors teaches public school students about “restorative justice.” [2] I could not imagine how I would respond if such a crime was committed against one of my family members. I hope and pray that none of us find ourselves in that same situation. But what Janet did provides a wonderful example of what it means to resist evil. She resisted evil, by adopting love, even love for the ones who had killed her son. The resistance of evil means we do not take injustice lying down. We do not apologize for the space we occupy. We do not stand idly by. Instead of returning violence with violence, even on our own selves, we respond with love. We hold abusers accountable. Where have you seen evil? Where have you seen abuse? Where have you seen violence? Are you ready to hold up the mirror of Jesus’ righteousness in those situations? Are you ready to adopt strategies of non-violent resistance? Are you ready to mirror God’s love in the world today? These are challenging words for challenging times. Let’s pray that our God, who loves us just the way we are, and yet loves us too much to let us stay that way, will give us the courage we need in these times. Because, as Paul says in the letter to the Corinthians, we belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. Amen. [1] Walter Wink, Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination, Fortress Press, Minneapolis MN, 1992, 175-189 [2] http://www.humanmedia.org/catalog/program.php?products_id=314, access 2/18/17 You are the Light Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On February 5th, 2017 Scripture: Matthew 5:13-20 Since before Christmas we have pondered wonderful metaphors for Jesus as light, coming into a world of darkness. We heard ancient prophetic texts about the coming of the light. We read the birth narratives of the gospels and heard echoes of the metaphor of light for the coming of Christ. The imagery captivated us. In December we lit Advent candles; on Christmas, the Christmas candle. And in this season following Christmas we light our Epiphany candle, remembering the brilliant star the wise men followed and the revelation of Jesus to the Gentiles. But, in our reading this week Jesus delivers startling news to the disciples who are sitting expectantly, perhaps, wondering when this light is going to arrive in full glory. He tells them … You are the light of the world. I have to admit, at the time of Jesus, the liturgical seasons did not exist. The disciples probably had no clue about the stories surrounding Jesus’ birth and probably didn’t care much either. After all they have Jesus in the person right there with them. They really don’t need to see the baby pictures. As Jewish men, they are do not belong to the learned classes of scribes and Pharisees. Probably they’re illiterate, and it’s doubtful that they have in mind the ancient prophetic texts. Even so, as far at the gospel of Matthew and the lectionary readings are concerned, just a couple of weeks ago, Jesus walked into the disciples’ lives and instructed them to follow him. They have left behind their boats and fishing nets, having heard Jesus say that they will now be fishing for people. They have witnessed healings and teachings all over the place. Now, with just a little time to draw breath, they have settled on the hillside to listen to the core of Jesus’ teaching. I imagine they have something to do with the crowds, who have gathered all around. They have probably been out, spreading the word about: “he’s the best preacher I’ve ever heard … you’ll laugh, you’ll cry … he gets to me right here in the heart … I’m telling you, you’ve never seen a healer like this one before” They feel so excited to be following Jesus. They never know what he’s going to teach next. This must be the one we have all been waiting for. Just wait until he gets to Jerusalem and tells those Romans where to go! Israel will have their day then, and light will break forth, or whatever is supposed to happen. That will be the day! Perhaps, listening on the hillside, they have drifted off, day dreaming of how it will all be. Perhaps they are whispering among themselves with delight: “he is surely our savior!” Then they begin to tune in to what he is teaching today. Because it is something new, it sounds a little different. Different from the “come follow me” command he gave them back beside the lake. First the teaching begins with the “blesseds” or the “beatitidues.” We heard them last week: “blessed are the poor …. blessed are those who mourn … blessed are the peacemakers …” The disciples nod in agreement. The poor, the peacemakers, those who mourn: they are indeed blessed. They will indeed be blessed when God’s kingdom arrives in the world. Preach it, Jesus! Abruptly, though, Jesus switches from third person plural address to second person plural. He goes right from blessed are the [whatever] … to “you.” You are the salt of the world … you are the light of the world. What? If I had been a disciple in that moment, I would have been floored. This bursting forth of light: this One who will save us all from poverty and oppression; this One who will give us back our place of worship and restore Jerusalem; this One who will overcome the darkness of our lives, the darkness of our time and place … just said “you are the light.” No, Jesus, you have that wrong, it is you who are the light – remember? Jesus doesn’t say to them “if you study hard, and go to college, and get a good job, one day, you could become the light of the world.” And he doesn’t say, ”when the time comes, you will be the light of the world.” Nor does he say “prepare yourselves, people, get in shape, fix up your place of worship, make sure you have a good living.” Or “God’s just waiting for you all to shape up and grow up right now, then you’ll be the light of the world.” No, Jesus just says “you are the light of the world.” So friends, I wonder do you feel ready to be the light of the world, in the face of the darkness we see in these days. Just this past Thursday evening, a member of the congregation and I attended an event organized by the Massachusetts Council of Churches in the lobby of the building that houses the Boston School District Headquarters. It’s located at Dudley Square in Roxbury. The previous day, a 15 year old boy had been arrested in that same lobby because he had attempted to shoot another child who was enrolling for classes. It feels like a striking example of the darkness of the world, when a school child brings a gun to attempt a shooting in the school headquarters. Yet, on that same evening, we learned of an after-school program that takes place in the same space. There kids are given homework help, nutritious food, and learn to communicate one on one with each other and with adults. The students are prepared for further education, they are given some hope for the future. Volunteers for the program are welcome. Earlier in the week I also learned about a possible volunteer opportunity for the clergy of the Inter Church Council here in Quincy, at the Phoenix House rehab facility. My colleague told me that when ministers and students come in to lead prayer and bible study groups at the rehab, there is standing room only. Addiction is certainly a place of darkness. But, when God is your last best hope for light, the desire to open up to prayer, and engage in Bible study overcomes any resistance. Yes, there is darkness in our world, as there was in the time of Jesus, but there are also opportunities to be light. Even so, sometimes, it can be difficult for me to imagine that I really am the light. Last week I went to my monthly meeting with my cohort from the “Soul of Leadership” program. We gather to help one another find the ways in which God is calling us to lead in our work, by means of “clearness committees.” These are gatherings in the Quaker tradition, in which one person brings a situation to the group for discernment. It can be a question or a decision, or simply a general situation. The group is asked to listen for God’s wisdom in a structured time of sharing and silence. When I met with my group last week, I had a situation to bring to them. Although I didn’t phrase it quite this way, I was grappling with the idea of being light to the world, as a quiet and reserved person. The way I phrased it was “did I need to change?” Did I need to become more of an extrovert to do my job as pastor? As I am required to reach out into the community, did I need to overcome my natural reserve in order to do this work? I know I bring the gifts for building deep, lasting relationships. But do I need to be more “out there”? Do I need to be pacing the streets and knocking on doors? Do I need to call “good morning” a little louder, when I stand at the church door on Sunday morning? Do I need to enthusiastically greet passersby in the street, without thinking about what their reaction might be? My group members listened patiently and responded thoughtfully, and what they said, in essence was” You are the light of the world… They gently reminded me that it is quite silly to say “I think that I may need to be someone different, to do what God has called me to do.” As though God somehow picked the wrong person. Did I really think that God doesn’t understand me: my struggles or my history or my personality type (which God made, by the way)? They reminded me of the gifts I bring to this ministry. They reminded me of the possibility that deep, and carefully tended relationships may be what is required at this time. They reminded me that when God uses us to bring light to the world for such a time as this. And God knows what God is doing. I wonder though … do you know that you are the light of the world. Do you think that who God made you to be, prevents you from being light? Do you think that your life is too confused right now, there is too much going on for you to be light? Do you think that you need to make changes: to get in shape, to find a job, to fix up your home, to get your kids into college before you can be light? That is not the case, you are already light, to the people you meet every day in your life: teachers, classmates, clinicians, the person working the supermarket checkout, those who are in line to get coffee with you each day. You are the light for them. And, do we think that we, Wollaston Congregational Church, need to get our house in order before we can be light? Do we need to get our permitting and restore our tower, before we can be light in this community? No, we are called to be light, right here, right now. We don’t need to wait for anything. So, let’s remember, this startling plan that God has for the world through Jesus Christ: that we fallen, broken, humanity; we flawed, clueless disciples; we struggling, messy Church; we, constitute the light of that city on a hill. We are that lighthouse for all who are lost in the darkness. This is what has been at work since the beginning of humanity’s fall from relationship with God. And so Jesus, the one who has been with God since the beginning entered the world, and still enters the world, gathers us up and set us on our feet. And then tell us … you are the light of the world . Amen |
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