Abiding in the True Vine Preached on April 29th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: John 15:1-8 Our gospel reading for today introduces the metaphor of Jesus as the true vine, and the disciples as the branches. This comes from a lengthy discourse Jesus is having with the disciples, during what is known as the “Last Supper.” Jesus has washed the disciples feet. Judas has gone on his way to betray Jesus. And so now, Jesus imparts his most critical teaching before he is taken away from them. These are his parting words. The metaphor of the vine has to do with a grape vine that bears good fruit. Jesus identifies himself as the real vine, to which all branches are connected. Jesus explains that branches that do not remain connected to the true vine cannot live. They wither and die and are thrown into the fire. While vine branches do not have a choice whether or not they are connected to the vine, disciples and the disciple community do have a choice. Jesus reminds them to make the choice to abide in him. The reason for the vine’s existence is to bear fruit, and so the disciple community is encouraged to bear fruit. This is a lasting image for the audience of John’s gospel, the very early Christian church. My reflections on this morning’s gospel message led me to do a little research on the care of vines in order to produce the best fruit. I learned that a well cared for vine can live for many, many years. The oldest known living vine is in Maribor in Slovenia. It has been alive since the 17thcentury and still produces 77-120 lbs of grapes each year, which make about 100 miniature bottles of wine. I also learned that a vine can become very large. The largest grape vine in the world is in the gardens of Hampton Court, a royal palace near London. This vine has circumference of 12.5 feet and the longest branch is 246 feet long. It was planted in 1768, grown from a cutting from another vine. It’s largest crop was in 2001: 845 lbs of grapes. And so, you see, that even at this great age the Hampton Court vine is bearing good and plentiful fruit. But there were other questions in my mind, following the reading of this parable of the vine. Questions like: What does it mean to remain connected to Jesus, like a branch connected to the true vine? And what does this vine look like, these days, so long after Jesus first told this parable? Are we – you and I – and us, the church together, one of the branches? And what is the fruit – you and I – and also us, the church together, are expected to bear? There’s a tendency among predominantly white, North American protestant congregations like us, to think of ourselves as the only branch on the Christian vine. After all, Protestantism dominated in North America and Europe during the 19thcentury and for much of the 20thcentury. We worry, as attendance declines in churches like ours, that Christianity is dying. But that could not be further from the truth. In fact, the Church is growing, particularly in the global South, shifting from North America and Europe. According to the Washington Post- “A century ago, 80 percent [of Christians] lived in North America and Europe, compared with just 40 percent today. In 1980, more Christians were found in the global South than the North for the first time in 1,000 years. Today, the Christian community in Latin America and Africa, alone, accounts for 1 billion people.” [1] It turns out that the branches growing out from the true vine of Jesus have become very long indeed. They wrap around the whole globe. If we are concerned about the vine of the Church continuing to thrive and grow, we may look to other lands for reassurance. And if we are concerned for branches of the vine in this region we may look to the immigrant and black churches. They are thriving as the main line church is being pruned away. It is important that we are aware of this ebb and flow of Christianity in the world. Even so, if we want to be a viable branch, bearing fruit, we need to learn what it means to abide in Jesus. This week, as I was scanning news from various Christian circles, I learned about a meeting of American evangelicals in Ohio. This group included prominent pastors, scholars, and professors. The goal of the gathering was to disentangle the word “evangelical” from its current attachment with far-right partisan politics and refocus it on Christ and the Church. One of the attendees, the President of Fuller Theological Seminary, Mark Labberton, remarked that the gathering was not “an occasion for celebration of evangelicalism,” rather, it had “[emerged out of] worry, sorrow, anger, and bewilderment.” He stated that many white evangelicals had turned the “Gospel into Good News that is fake” and lamented that “US evangelicalism [has] been complicit in violence against people of color for centuries” pointing out that “where denunciation was needed there [has been] only silence.” There was a varied response to this call to refocus on connection with Christ. In particular, the younger leaders and those of color, called for repentance for complicity in racism and sexism. [2] Of course, not all of the evangelicals’ issues are our issues. But many are. The United Church of Christ likes to lift up the areas in which we are doing well. But our churches would also do well to confess to sins of omission and silence. We would do well to examine our history as it relates matters of racism, going back to the days of slavery in the United States. And New England Protestant Churches would do well to look closely at the origins of the businesses that provided their endowments and funds for construction. New Englanders like to claim an abolitionist history, but an article from the Boston Globe in 2016, presents evidence that the slave trade helped to build our economy. Writer Kenneth Cooper says “Brown University has confessed that its early benefactors, including its namesake, owned or operated slave ships. Newport, R.I., has been identified as a leading port for such vessels. Aetna in Hartford CT has acknowledged writing life insurance policies on slaves.” The Globe article cites the book “New England Bound,” by Wendy Warren. This tells of slavery in early New England foreshadowing Southern practices. The slave masters belonged to the Puritan tradition: one of the strands that made up the Congregational Church. These Puritans claimed that God had sanctioned holding African and native slaves. [3] Some time ago I read the newsletter of a UCC church in the greater Boston area. I learned that this church had actually owned a slave, bequeathed by a benefactor. I was shocked to note that this story was written up quite factually, without a hint of a shame or a suggestion of confession or repentance. Of course, most of us were not taught about the contribution of slavery to the New England economy in our history classes in school. But the expression “ignorance is no excuse” comes to mind. This past Thursday, a couple of members of the book group and I attended a presentation made by Debby Irving, the author of the book we are currently reading, “Waking up White.” [4] The presentation’s title was “I’m a good person, isn’t that enough?” It’s a rhetorical question, of course. Yes, you and I, we are good people. And yet, to be living, viable branches on the vine we are to go further than simply being good, in order to bear fruit. In her book, Debby Irving explores her discovery – as a wealthy white American - of the “hidden history” of racism. She confesses to the fact that, in spite of being a history major in college, she had been ignorant of this information. Often the question that comes up, when audiences have heard Irving’s presentation is “what can we do?” And so, along with her colleagues, Dr. Eddie Moore, Jr. and Dr. Marguerite Penick-Parks, she has put together something called the 21 day challenge. This challenge invites participants to do one action to further their understanding of power, privilege, oppression, and equity. For each of the 21 days there are articles and books to read, music to listen to, videos to watch, and things to notice. I am hoping that members of the book group, and other church members will be willing participate in this challenge. In order to bear fruit - the fruit of this branch we call Wollaston Congregational Church – we must abide in the true vine: Jesus. At first hearing, Jesus’ parable of the vine and the branches may sound like comforting words for weary souls. The verbs “remain” and “abide” may sound passive. After all, a vine does not get up and walk around. But a vine is a living organism, and like all living things if is not growing it is dying. As a church, we do not necessarily need to grow numerically. But we do need to be growing ever deeper in our connection with Jesus and his expansive love for all people. Sometimes this will mean examining our own personal stories. Sometimes it will mean examining the story of our church and our community. It is not too late to bear the fruit of confession and repentance for our church and our community. And so, I urge us all to be bold and to live into the call to connection to Christ, the true vine. May all God’s people say, Amen [1]https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2015/05/20/think-christianity-is-dying-no-christianity-is-shifting-dramatically/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.405a6c29229d [2]https://www.newyorker.com/news-desk/on-religion/at-a-private-meeting-in-illinois-a-group-of-evangelicals-tried-to-save-their-movement-from-trumpism [3]https://www.bostonglobe.com/arts/2016/06/22/slave-trade-helped-build-early-new-england-economy/GqMvV4Al8Yjmf8YjP6Ot4N/story.html [4]Debby Irving, “Waking Up White, and Finding Myself in the Story of Race”, (Cambridge MA, Elephant Room Press. 2014)
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Preached on April 15th, 2018 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 24:36b-48 On this third Sunday of Easter we hear a third gospel story of the resurrection. We’ve heard from the gospels of Mark and John so far. Now we hear from Luke. It is still the third day. The women have been to the tomb and found it empty. In Luke’s case there were two men in dazzling clothes to give them the message that Jesus had risen. And then there were the two who traveled the road to Emmaus, and met a stranger they invited to dinner. Even though their hearts were warmed as this stranger explained the scriptures to them, they did not recognize Jesus until they sat down to eat and he broke bread in his characteristic way. At that moment he vanished from their sight. They got up right away and high tailed it back to Jerusalem to tell the others, who were gathered together in the room. The Lego Bible depicts the disciples’ hangout as a kind of morning after scene. The guys are playing cards. What else would they do … sitting there waiting for what comes next? There are empty beer cans scattered around the room and full ashtrays. It’s messy. They’ve gone through the full range of emotions these past couple of days: frustration, guilt, grief, doubt, anxiety, suspicion, restlessness, despondency and terror. Fear dominates. Their beloved leader has suffered a horrific death, and his body is missing. They have no assurance of security, other than to lock themselves away. If Pilate’s henchmen arrived at the door with their swords, they would have no defense. They’re numb and fidgety. They are traumatized. Five years ago, in April 2013, my entire family was out of town for the school vacation week. On the Monday evening we heard the news. There had been a bombing during the Boston Marathon. It was impossible to imagine the carnage of the scene. It was difficult to believe that this iconic Boston event usually so filled with good spirit and good will, had been disrupted by just two people bent on violence and destruction. Of course, my heart went out to all the runners: those who arrived exhausted and bewildered at the finish line and those further back, who heard confused reports of what was going on. My heart went out to those who were hurt, or whose loved ones were hurt, and those who were waiting for news of loved ones. My heart went out to the first responders and the hospital staff receiving the horrifically wounded. And my heart went out to all those on the scene who just did what they could. As soon as the news unfolded, my heart also went out to the staff and residents of the eldercare facility in Roslindale where I worked at the time. They would be on lockdown and scared. I knew that the news reports would blare out on the TV screens in the elderly residents rooms. Many of these residents had already been traumatized by the events of their lives: the holocaust, World Wars, immigration and resettling. They didn’t need more fear and anxiety to trigger their disturbing memories. The staff, nurses, aides and housekeeping would have to work not only the holiday, but every shift until the lockdown lifted. These carers carried their own traumas. The many immigrants from Haiti had recent memories of a devastating earthquake, as well as the ongoing trauma of displacement. But, as they went about their business, they would have to put those feelings aside to tend to the anxious elderly. My heart went out to all of them. And so, as we return to the traumatized disciples in that room on “lockdown” perhaps we can understand their state of trauma. They are in this state when Jesus comes and stands among them and says the one thing they need to hear: “Peace be with you.” He doesn’t go on to say that life will be blessed beyond the grave. That they can go now, safely with him to heaven. No, he doesn’t lay on a security blanket. Instead he shows them his hands and feet – perhaps still wounded from the cross – and he asks them to touch him. And he asks for something to eat. But then, he goes on to teach. He gets right back to scripture. He reminds them of God’s habit of doing unexpected things. He draws their attention back to Moses and the prophets. These are the biblical books that "proclaim God's word" for the people. They are reminded that God always affirms God’s people in the face of rejection and suffering. It is God’s habit to bring life from death. He reminds them of the possibility of repentance, and the hope of forgiveness. And in this moment, we see the disciples repent. They turn from their fears. They turn from their guilt and shame. They turn from their trauma. They turn from all of the things had caused them to shut down. This is just as well because they have been commissioned to begin their ministry in Jerusalem. They are to proclaim repentance and forgiveness of sins, not only for their own people but for all nations. The resurrected Jesus brings peace to an atmosphere of fear, trauma, emotional shutdown, and physical lockdown. This understanding of peace, Shalom in Hebrew, is not only the absence of distress or conflict. It is an experience wholeness, wellbeing and restoration. It is the opposite of shut-down. Jesus words of peace bring healing the disciples’ trauma and enable their minds to open to possibilities. The United Church of Christ’s own Old South Church, right on Boylston Street in Boston is known as “the church of the finish line.” Each year, the Sunday before the marathon – this Sunday – they hold “blessing of the athletes” services. The marathon runners are invited to come into the church for a special blessing. Hands are place on their shoulders. The blessing proclaimed from the pulpit asks God to keep them safe and to give them perseverance, that “they may run and not grow weary, walk and not faint.” The year I served Old South as a ministerial intern, it was my great honor and privilege to bless the athletes that had overflowed the large sanctuary into the narthex. The year following the horrific events of the marathon bombing, some of the Old South church ladies initiated a special project. They invited the knitters and crochet-ers of UCC churches to create “peace” scarves for the 2014 Blessing of the Athletes. These scarves were to be knit in the blue and gold colors of the Boston Athletic Association. The organizers wanted the courageous runners, both returning and new, to experience a special blessing that year. The knitters got started and the project spread like wildfire. Boston area stores ran out of blue and gold yarn and had to ship in more. The scarves poured in from UCC churches all over the country. The organizers had hoped for a few hundred scarves in the 10 weeks leading up to the Marathon. They actually received more than 7,300. The scarves did not only come from American churches. The Islamic Society of Boston, put out a call to Muslims to knit. “Salaam scarves” poured in. As did scarves from all around the world. On Easter, 2014, the day of resurrection, the Old South ministry was able to bless numerous athletes wrapping the scarves around their necks as a tangible message of Shalom, “peace be with you.” These were not just one-way messages. Many runners wrote back to their scarves’ creators or posted on the church facebook page. The most poignant messages came from runners who were unable to finish the 2013 marathon and had come back in 2014. One recipient wrote “I felt honored to receive [my scarf] at the blessing of the athletes at Old South Church on Easter Sunday. What a beautiful service and a kind way to inspire me to run with strength and finish the race I started in 2013. Thank you, Boston, scarf knitters and Old South Church!!” A week or so after the 2015 event I was back at work in the chaplain’s office at the Hebrew Rehab Center. I answered the phone to hear from a representative of the Jewish Chaplains Council. “We’re just calling to see how you all are doing,” she said. For a moment I didn’t know what she meant. Then I realized, she was reaching out to Boston area facilities, knowing the trauma that people would still be feeling. I passed along the message to my supervisor. Later I learned that the Israeli Trauma Coalition had sent a team to lead workshops for clergy, school and hospital personnel in the Boston area. It was their message of peace, Shalom, for Boston. It is understandable that the marathon bombing provoked fear and trauma in our culture. But, in our lives today, we are assaulted by many other fears. If we do not challenge these fears, they threaten put us on lockdown in our own private rooms of trauma. We are on lockdown due to fears of criminals in our communities. We are on lockdown due to fears cultivated by racism and suspicion of “the other” in our neighborhoods. We are on lockdown due to fears of bullies, in work, school or family, who wish to exert control over us. We are on lockdown due to those who tell us there is nothing to be done, except to hunker down and keep strangers out. And so, I pray that in our places of lockdown, the risen Jesus will stand among us with his message of peace. So that we will not be afraid to cultivate communities of friendship and neighborliness to hinder criminal activity. So that we will not be afraid to stand against racism and suspicion, befriending those who are treated as “other.” So that we will resist bullies, standing our ground when they attempt to control us. So that we break out of our locked down homes and rooms to build bridges, befriending strangers who fear us, perhaps, as much as we fear them. My friends, the peace of the risen Jesus is not a security blanket to cover us. It is marathon scarf around our neck. So let us put on our scarves and get in the race. May all God’s people say, Amen To Begin Again Easter 2018 Scripture: Mark 16:1-8 This year we read our Easter story from the gospel of Mark. Mark is the very earliest of the four gospels in the Bible, and it is the shortest. As soon as Jesus enters the story he gets to work, preaching and healing among the rural poor. Mark’s gospel rarely pauses for breath. His favorite word is “immediately.” As soon as Jesus has completed an act or teaching, he goes “immediately” to do the next. The reading we heard today is from the very last sentences of the gospel. The three women have come to the tomb in Jerusalem, very early in the morning the day after the Sabbath. They bring sweet smelling herbs and spices. Ministering to the body is the one thing they can do for Jesus now that he is dead. They are terrified and amazed to find that the stone has been rolled away and the tomb is empty. And they are most terrified of all to be greeted by this man in white – an angel of God – who gives them a message from Jesus. “Go back to Galilee.” Galilee is the region 70 miles to the north, from whence they came. There they will meet Jesus. True to Mark’s form, Jesus hasn’t waited around for them, He has gone “immediately” back to Galilee. The women are supposed to go and tell the other disciples. It is their job to pass along the message. And yet, at least for Mark, that is where the story ends. Here they stand, paralyzed and silenced by fear. They do nothing. That’s it. The end of the story … “they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.” As a writer, Mark is really not good at endings. And it turns out that he’s really not good at beginnings either. Here is the way the gospel starts out: “This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ the Son of God,” and then “Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God.” This is the beginning of the good news? Does it mean that this is the beginning of the story of the good news? Or does it mean that the whole gospel is only the beginning? Does it mean that the good news that is not complete? What does Mark mean? It’s confusing, and, yet, Mark has something important to tell us in this strange beginning and ending. Mary Magdalene, Mary mother of James, and Salome had been with Jesus’s group for a while. There were many other women too, who had traveled with Jesus, through the countryside from Galilee. Jesus preached and taught and healed the sick along the way. They had amassed quite a following of folk, who had nothing to lose from joining the band of followers and coming up to Jerusalem. But no one really understood Jesus and what he was about. His predictions of his crucifixion and resurrection made no sense to them. The women took care of the preparation of food on this awe-inspiring journey. This is the work that they generally did: cooking, cleaning, giving birth and preparing the dead for burial. It had been a grueling journey. The constant crowds, the daily packing up and moving on. And they had realized that their beloved Rabbi, Jesus, was heading to Jerusalem for the Passover. This made the women anxious. How would his message of love and liberation for the poor go down with the Roman rulers? How would the temple authorities react, as they balanced a tricky half-peace between the Romans and the people? The women had feared that there might be trouble, but they’d never imagined what would come to pass. Jesus had been taken away to be crucified. The male disciples had scattered in fear. But the women had been able to blend into the crowd and watch, silently weeping. Then Jesus’s body was hastily placed in this lonely tomb. No one had stayed with him. No one had prepared his body according to the law. And so, on this morning after the Sabbath, these three brave women decide to fulfill that responsibility. This is where we meet them, today, as they receive that strange message from the man in white “He has gone back to Galilee, as he told you he would… he will meet you there.” And so, they are to go back … not only to Galilee, but to the beginning. The beginning of the story. They are to begin again, this story of the good news. Only this time they will understand. They have been told the endgame by the messenger in white. And it is good news! It is the news that love wins and death is overcome. Credit to these woman, paralyzed by fear and amazement. They do get over it, and they tell. We know because we are here today, hearing this story from Mark. The crowd of followers, who are the disciples, grows, through the ages, and spreads around the world. Even today, the crowd of followers grows here at Wollaston Congregational Church. And yet again, we receive the message: We are told to go back to the beginning, and meet Jesus there. For our gospel writer, Mark, there is no other story. This is Easter. The powers of darkness attempted to extinguish the light of Christ, but now he lives on. Just go back to the beginning and meet him there. So we may well ask: is that it? Is Easter simply a pause, just a break in routine: - a weekend to enjoy the new signs of spring and to forget depressing news. - a weekend to celebrate crocuses breaking through the ground and beginning to bloom. And to notice buds on the trees ready to burst into blossom. - a weekend to captivate the excitement of children, stashing brightly colored eggs found in the grass and the crevices of trees. To revel in fresh new clothing and happy feasting? All of these are wonderful things. But what happens when we go back to work, school, or routine on Monday … when it’s back to ‘business as usual’? Does it make a difference, that we are to go back to the beginning, the beginning of the good news, again? Will Easter make a difference? For citizens of the United States, forty-six days ago, Lent began with something totally counter to God’s good news. You remember the terrible events in Parkland FL on Ash Wednesday. Since that day students, teachers, parents, and others who care about children in schools, have been demanding change. They have been standing up to powerful groups, such as the NRA, who seem to be holding our elected leaders hostage. Last Saturday I went to walk in the Boston “March for Our Lives” protest with a number of young women from this church. The mood in the crowd was uplifting. The feeling of doing something for change seemed to buoy the marchers up. Being around so many companions chanting, singing and waving signs was encouraging and energizing. I got into a number of conversations, during the march and afterwards. Everyone asked the same question: “Do you think things will change? Will it make a difference?” It is a good question: will it make a difference? We cannot know the answer at this time. But this is likely to be a long hard struggle for those who are involved. To make a difference, the student marchers and their supporters will need to resist their own fear and despair. They will need energy and resilience for the journey. Of course, student marches for change are not the only issue of our time. There are many other struggles in our culture. Today I think of the shooting of Stephon Clark, by the Sacramento police, and the alarmingly disproportionate loss of young black and brown lives in our times. I’m also thinking of the group of Veterans who used our social hall over the weekend as a base, while they generously gave their time and energy to help repair storm damage in this community. Whenever, someone chooses to engage with powerful forces for the sake of God’s children and God’s creation, they will need resilience, perseverance, and hope. And then, of course, there are those of us who are facing personal journeys that also require hope and resilience. - Perhaps you are a recovering alcoholic, and know your need for perseverance and hope to begin each new day. - Perhaps your realize that your work or career is hurting your soul, and you need to muster the hope and energy to find something new. - Perhaps you are in a relationship that needs to begin again on more honest terms, being clear about your own needs and the needs of the other. My friends, going back after Easter is not business as usual. It does make a difference that we go back to the beginning. We, like the women in our story, are told to meet Jesus there. We come around and begin again, because the good news of God has not yet come to completion. The Easter resurrection story is like an injection of life and hope into weary people who are tempted to despair. But, we do not need to be paralyzed. We do not need to fear the road ahead. Because Jesus has already gone there ahead of us. It is the risen Christ who will meet us there. May all God’s people say “Alleluia!” |
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