We Have Not Been Deserted Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On May 28th, 2017 Scriptures: Luke 24:44-53 and Acts 1:1-11 Today we celebrate the Ascension of Jesus. This festival of the church is traditionally celebrated 40 days after Easter, which places the event on the Thursday before the 7th Sunday of Eastertide. The Ascension is often observed in an evening service, and in some countries Ascension Day is actually and national holiday. We were not in church on Thursday, though, so I have chosen the Ascension Day scriptures for today. The Ascension of Christ may seem like a strange story, but it is a significant transitional event for the followers of Jesus and for the Church. It requires the disciples to deal with the question of who they are, now Jesus is no longer with them in the flesh. To complicate matters, we heard two different accounts of the same event written by the same author in our readings today. The gospel of Luke concludes with a description of the Ascension. Then Luke’s sequel, the book of Acts, begins with the Ascension of Christ. It’s a little bit like “previously on Law and Order”, a recap of what happened last in the gospel. Only the two accounts have some noticeable differences. In the gospel, Jesus is seen ascending right after the resurrection appearances, all on the first day of the week. That is, on Easter. It is quite a jam-packed day for the disciples, quite an emotional roller coaster. I have decided that I like the Acts account better, because in this case the Ascension takes place 40 days after the resurrection. The disciples receive 40 days of teaching about the reign of God. At least they have had some time and space to take in all the events of the crucifixion and resurrection. There’s one more thing I’d like to highlight about this story. In fact, it is something that applies to all of the gospels. That the story is heard, and also probably set, in the midst of the gruesome Roman-Jewish war, with the Jerusalem temple at the center of it all. Even though the description of the war and all of its atrocities are left out of the New Testament, we are repeatedly told of the disciples’ fear. And so, somehow, Jesus has taken the disciples out to Bethany, just outside Jerusalem, just beyond the fray. This is the place where he began his dramatic entry into Jerusalem, just a few weeks ago. Somehow, they have found a peaceful hillside, away from the anxiety and fray of Jerusalem. Somehow, the crosses of the many crucifixions taking place at that time are out of sight, and the disciples are able to focus on Jesus’ words. But, we can tell that they are still pre-occupied with what will happen in Jerusalem. They ask, is this the time when he will restore the kingdom to Israel? They are still thinking in terms of worldly power and success. He deflects, rather than corrects. You will receive the power from the Holy Spirit … you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, but also in all Judea and Samaria, to the ends of the earth. He is looking forward to the time when the gospel is brought to Rome, the center of power in their world. This is the trajectory of the book of Acts: the birth of the Church, the powerful action of the Holy Spirit in transforming lives. Even the lives of the oppressors. No wonder that when he is taken up into the Father’s heart, they stand there gazing. They’re left speechless, amazed. They haven’t taken it in. Yet again, there are the men in white, just as at the tomb, ready to admonish them. Don’t stare up toward heaven … follow Jesus’ instructions and return to Jerusalem, to wait, to pray, and to receive the Holy Spirit. I can’t help thinking that they must feel deserted by Jesus, as they slowly return to the fray in Jerusalem: to the epicenter of fear and anxiety. A couple of months ago, I saw the movie “Hacksaw Ridge” with my husband. It’s quite a graphic movie focusing on the horrors of battle, but it portrays an extremely compelling story. This is the story of medic, Desmond T. Doss, who served the US army during World War II. Desmond Doss volunteered for the army, in spite of the fact that he was a Seventh Day Adventist and a pacifist. He refused to carry a weapon, even during military training, saying that his Bible and his faith were all that he needed. Doss actually became the first conscientious objector to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor. Doss received all kinds of abuse during his training with his infantry unit. The other trainees saw him as a weak link and his military superiors were determined to have Doss removed from the unit. But he persisted in his goal to serve the war effort as a medic. He was fit and strong, and withstood the bullying and abuse hurled at him with courage. Following training, Doss’s unit was then sent to serve in Okinawa, Japan. They were thrown into the fray of battle as soon as they arrived. The forces who were already in place had been decimated by the Japanese. And so, Doss and his comrades went up the cliff of Hacksaw Ridge and entered immediately into the carnage. Under heavy machine gun and artillery fire, Doss repeatedly ran into the danger zone. He carried wounded soldiers to the edge of the cliff and singlehandedly lowered them down to safety. Each time he saved a man’s life, Doss prayed out loud, “Lord, please help me get one more.” Then he would go back again. He clearly felt Christ’s presence with him as he returned time and again, into the night, for around 100 wounded men, including some Japanese soldiers. It is hard for me to imagine summoning courage like Desmond Doss’s. And so, I feel the enormity of what the disciples must be facing, as they gaze up after Jesus. But they are reminded that they are to go back into the chaos of Jerusalem … and then, wait. Only this time, Jesus is not besides them in the flesh. In some ways, what is required of the disciples seems even harder than what was required of Doss. It is a “don’t just do something … sit there,” kind of command. It’s a reversal of the worldly instruction always to act, regardless of what must be done. According to the book of Acts, they do go back to the city, they come together in the upper room. They pray and worship, awaiting the Spirit. I think that they do this, with some degree of hope, because they have taken in what Jesus is doing in returning to the heart of his Father. They have grasped in some way, the deepest meaning of the Ascension. Jesus has gathered up all the pain and suffering he experienced in the world. He has gathered up the distress and anxiety of people in all places, and brought his deep concern for humanity straight into God’s heart. There, returned to relationship with God, as the Christ, he is now in a position to be with all people for all time. He is in a position to be at the side of soldiers going into battle or like Desmond Doss, going to bind up the wounded. He is able to be at the side of the family gathered around the hospital bed of a loved one … or at the side of parents whose children have been lost in concert arenas or bombed out cities of the middle east. He is able to be at the side of all who wait, even in the most tragic of circumstances, all the while holding their fears and anxieties in the heart of the Father. Next Sunday, here at Wollaston Congregational Church, we will be celebrating our participation in the universal Church. We will observe the feast of Pentecost: the birth of the Church. And, after around 9 months together, I will officially be installed as your pastor. Over the past couple of years, this church may well have felt deserted, as you lost your settled pastor, and lost your ability to do the work you felt most called to do. It is no secret that the future of this church felt very uncertain. But, you have expressed your desire to continue in your existing ministries, as well as seek out new ways to build partnerships in the community. In order to continue our mission of hosting youth groups coming to the city of Boston to serve the community, occupancy permits are now needed. A good number of you have responded to this need by working to modify the building and scheduling the necessary inspections and hearings. This work has proceeded as an act of faith and trust. It is sporadic and frustrating, requiring us to wait on authorities outside our control. There have been times when action has been required. But, more often we have been required to wait and pray. In fact, much of this year has involved waiting. We need to wait for the permit so we can begin hosting again. If we begin hosting again, we will have more confidence in our future as church in this community. I do not know whether we will be successful in this process, although I’m very hopeful that we will. But, I do know that we have been faithful to the command to remain present in the fray that is our world today, even as the anxiety threatens to overcome us. We are steeling ourselves to remain present to the questions of deep concern in our culture today:
While we wait for the Spirit to direct us, and clothe us with the power we need for this work, we may, like those early disciples, remember that we have not been deserted. In fact, Jesus has gathered all our anxieties and fears, our concerns and our struggles and holds them in the heart of the Father. And now, Jesus is present, even to us, as real and as close as he ever was on the mountainside just outside Jerusalem, just beyond the fray. May it be so. Amen.
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There’s a Place for You, Preached on 5-14-17 Focus Scripture: John 14:1-14 The disciples and Jesus are gathered around the table, for what is to be the “Last Supper.” In the case of John’s gospel, there is no ritual breaking of bread and sharing of the cup. Instead Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, an act of service and love. And then he talks and talks and talks. Jesus is taking his leave of the disciples, he knows this is his last chance to teach them. He wants them to know what to do, and how to be when he is gone. Jesus is doing the best thing for any relationship that is coming to an end, or going through a change. He talks about it. Perhaps an elder, a matriarch or a patriarch, is passing from this life to the next, and they know it. Perhaps there have been a number of warnings: minor strokes, heart events, a malignant tumor. And the beloved one knows the end is near. A mature person will do leave taking well. It takes practice, and since no one can know when their end of life will actually come, it is best to begin to practice early. We all have many “good byes” to say during the course of our lives, it is wise to learn to do them well. When my former pastor was terminally ill, he knew how to do his leave taking. Although his body wasn’t handling much food any more, he invited me to lunch. We ate in a small Thai restaurant near where I lived, and after we had exchanged greetings made our orders, he began to say good bye to me. It wasn’t a sad conversation, though. He had some words of guidance, he wanted me to know the way. He suggested that I got in touch with my friend and fellow church member, Diane. He told me that she was going to take some classes at the Andover Newton Theological School, perhaps I’d like to talk to her about it. Yes, I replied, I’ve been thinking of taking classes too. He nodded, this wasn’t a surprise to him. We’d talked before about my possible calling to ministry. Ken couldn’t possibly have known the destination of my journey into ministry, but he helped me to trust that there was a place for me. Then, he talked with me about his funeral plans. There would be two services, a traditional church service and then something more casual at the home of church members set on the edge of the local lake. He told me there would be a cookout and he listed his favorite desserts the church ladies would bring. He said “we’ll invite all the church friends from far and near, and we’ll sing the songs: gospel, spirituals and jazz. I’d like your son, Ben, to be included in the band, Liz. I’d like him to play his saxophone.” Ken’s detailed planning included ensuring there was a place for Ben to share his musical talents. I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re planning on being there, aren’t you, Ken?” At first I thought he knew he’d be there in spirit, but he told me that he’d talked to other church people and they’d thought we should hold the event while he was still alive. That made a lot of sense. Jesus’ leave-taking is a little like Ken’s, or rather Ken’s was modeled on Jesus. Over a meal, still teaching and guiding, Jesus tells his disciples what will be coming next for them. Of course, being human disciples like you and I, they don’t entirely get it. He tells them he is going to prepare a place for them, in his Abba’s household. This is a spacious dwelling, where there will be many places to abide. There is plenty of room for all. He tells them that they know the way to the place where he is going. So, of course, Thomas, gets confused and says "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" It is as if he expects a map, a GPS location, or Google directions. But that isn’t the way. Jesus is talking about the way to the roominess of God’s household. Jesus is the way to that welcoming place. Because he is not talking about physical location, or an earthly road map. He is talking about relationship with God, and the way of Jesus – as a way to be in that relationship. There are many dwelling places, so that those who have felt uninvited to other places may be assured of their welcome. In effect, Jesus is saying “there’s a place for you.” Think of all the times when it has seemed that there was no place for you.
Jesus says, “God’s love isn’t like that. There’s a place for you in God’s household.” The thought takes me back to me first year in college. I had the idea I would have a great experience at the university I had chosen to attend. I had the perfect opportunity to be close to the city of London, having grown up in the North of England. I was coming fresh from the end of a High School romance. So I was excited for the male to female ratio, in this college where engineering classes predominated. Never mind that I didn’t really know what engineering was. I found that I struggled in classes where my male classmates excelled, such as circuit design. And I couldn’t understand why my northern accent was so difficult for the southerners to understand. What I didn’t realize is that the guys would already had plenty of guy friends. And so, when I was hoping for potential friendships, there was often pressure to get into a romantic relationship instead. As I became increasingly lonely, a romantic involvement was the last thing I needed. My life line, that first year, was the mid-week communion, offered by the Anglican chaplain. A small collection of students gathered with the chaplain in the basement of the library on Wednesday, for a simple bread and soup lunch around a table. This gathering helped me through loneliness, homesickness and academic struggles. The chaplain and my fellow students fed my body and soul, with lunch, prayers and table fellowship. I was comforted to feel a part of a greater whole and able to put my problems into perspective. Each Wednesday, having gathered there, I knew there was a place for me. Last week we talked about the profound loneliness so many people are suffering in our age of supposed connectivity. This resonated with many people, and so I think it is worth continuing the conversation today. A couple of days ago I read a blog, written by Rev. Jennifer Bailey, entitled “The Power of Welcome in an Age of Loneliness.” [1] Rev. Bailey says “We’re living in what’s been termed ‘the age of loneliness’: we’re more connected than ever before, and simultaneously, more isolated. We rely on social media in place of face-to-face contact. We bemoan the deterioration of conversation as we spend more time looking down at our screens than up at the people we’re talking to. But, really, the problem is that we do not give ourselves permission to talk about the things that truly matter.” Rev. Bailey has created a form of table fellowship with two friends, in a campaign called “100 Days 100 Dinners”. The organizers asked everyday Americans to host a dinner in their home, during the first 100 days of the presidential administration. Participants could invite people they already know, or strangers. The idea was to bridge political, ideological, and identity differences. Over the past three months organizers heard from people in 282 villages, towns, and cities, who were hungry for connection. All the dinners began with the same set of three questions, encouraging tablemates to tell stories of times they felt unwelcome and times they felt at ease. That is to say, times when the diners felt there was a place for them … times when they didn’t. The point of the campaign was not to promote a particular political, religious or ideological point of view. Rather it was to recognize that the recent election cycle has highlighted what Rev. Bailey describes a “painful truth …. that there are many among us who do not know people whose life experiences are different than our own.” She goes on to say “In our echo chambers, we find shelter and reinforcement for both our core values and worst prejudices.” This story appealed to me especially as you may remember that our accompanist, Sally, proposed a similar idea for our church, back during our annual meeting. She told us how many of her friends were feeling troubled at that time, with no place to talk about their feelings of disconnectedness in our polarized political climate. When Jesus assured the disciples that there were many dwelling places for them in God’s household, I don’t think he was imagining separate, isolated echo chambers. God’s household, for the hearers of John’s gospel, resembles a magnificent villa, or a community of closely clustered dwellings. The rooms are spacious enough for all identities, all traditions, all life experiences. But these dwellings are not walled and gated from one another. This is the beloved community of God. In his life of teaching and table fellowship, Jesus has shown the way. As they gather to break bread, each person is carefully and attentively listening to the stories of the other. Hearing of times when they felt unwelcome, and times when the felt the wonderful, spacious welcome of God. This is a vision for this place. May it be so. Amen. [1] https://onbeing.org/blog/jennifer-bailey-the-power-of-welcome-in-an-age-of-loneliness/ accessed on May 13th, 2017 “A Place of Belonging” Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On May 7th, 2017 Scripture: John 10:1-10 Remember the blind man … the one whose sight was restored by Jesus? We heard about him just a few weeks ago. Remember how the religious leaders threw him out of the community, because he told them Jesus had restored his sight? Today’s gospel passage follows along from that story. We might imagine that the newly sighted man now has no community to belong to. While he was blind, dependent on the charity of others, at least he had a place to be. Now he is sighted, ready to fend for himself, but he has no community in which to be productive. Our passage from John’s gospel provides Jesus’ discourse on the story of the rejected sighted man. In it, Jesus tells of a community for his followers … a place of belonging. It is a place where they can feel safe to flourish and grow. Jesus speaks of a sheepfold and likens himself to the gate of the enclosure. You may remember that, as part of my seminary education, I worked as a chaplain intern with the Hebrew Seniorlife organization. The first thing I learned there, was about the use of a Spiritual Assessment Tool. This tool includes a list of 7 facets of spiritual health. Chaplains can use this this list to assess each person they care for and find out where they might need some help. The first facet the tool lists is “love and belonging.” That is to say that every person has a need to be loved and to belong. We all need to feel a connection with family, friends, community, and with God. Absence of the feeling of belonging often presents as loneliness or isolation. Hebrew Seniorlife serves as a residential home for many seniors who suffer from dementia and other health challenges. The residents’ sense of belonging is often seriously upset, when they are moved from their former homes to the center. Cognitive difficulties can make the situation worse. For someone with short-term memory loss, even relatively familiar surroundings can seem strange and disorienting. The chaplains and staff at Seniorlife work hard to restore a sense of belonging, through social activities; worship opportunities, including familiar music and songs; community concerts and discussion groups. I remember wheeling an African American woman in her 90’s through the lower level of the center one time. I had wondered if she, as a black Christian, could feel a sense of belonging in a largely white, Jewish institution. But there in the basement was a large mural of an old neighborhood in Dorchester. “I like to come down here,” she told me, “because this is a picture of my neighborhood. I grew up around many Jewish families, and so I feel at home here.” Who would not wish to be loved and to belong? And yet, we see in our culture today, people belong less and less. A few generations ago almost all people belonged to an extended family, who lived together or close by. And those families lived in tightly knit communities. Everyone knew everyone else. If you didn’t like someone or didn’t get along, you had to figure things out. Because you were in the neighborhood together for the long haul. Moving away, or drawing the shades tight closed, was not an option. In some ways my own upbringing resembled this nostalgic ideal. My family lived on the edge of the village where my mom had grown up. My grandparents lived a short walk down the road. When I attended our small chapel as a young child, it seemed that almost everyone was related to me in some way: grandparents, aunts and uncles. The other families were familiar to me too. When I walked the main street through the village, from a very early age, I was often greeted as “Margaret”, my mom’s name. I didn’t mind, because those mistakes reminded me that people knew my family and were looking out for me. I am very grateful that I had this feeling of belonging in my early childhood. But even at that time, the extended family was becoming obsolete. During 1950’s and 60’s the nuclear family became the norm, at least for the white middle and upper classes. Ambitious young adults pursued careers away from their family of origin, building their own small family units as they married and had children. These units lived alongside other family units, connecting at church and other community groups … neighborhood picnics, sports leagues, holiday parties. If you Google images of nuclear families of the 50s and 60s, and you’ll see … mom, dad, 2 or 3 children, all of the same race. The family is admiring a wonderful cake, just baked by mom. Or enjoying hotdogs, grilled by dad of course, in the sunshine, on the manicured family lawn. The nuclear family is the picture of belonging … if you belong. … if your family doesn’t experience divorce. … if there isn’t a pregnancy out of wedlock … if you don’t fall in love with someone of a different race, a different religion … or the same gender. Today, in mainline American culture, it seems that those notions of the nuclear family have been eroded. Single parent families, blended families, mixed race families, interfaith families, same-sex parent families have become prevalent. I believe that these moves toward acceptance and diversity can only be beneficial. But the sad fact is that many adults live alone, or operate alone from a small family unit. Perhaps their own family unit broke down, and now they have no one. Perhaps they wanted independence and moved away, from their roots and their connections. Or perhaps were cast out by their own families. Even today, many LGBTQ youth are expelled by their families or they run away from hostility. In fact a full 40% of homeless youth on the streets are LGBT, according to the National Coalition for the Homeless. [1] Even in “in tact” families, with the demands of modern life and the desire for the fulfillment of rewarding careers, most parents work full time. Some work double shifts to make ends meet and barely have time left for sleep. The better-off are needed to drive their children to sports practices, music lessons, drama rehearsals and extra tuition, when they are done with work. For many, there is no more time for community connection and belonging. Over the past generation, participation in community groups has declined very rapidly. With this decline in connection through family and community, there has been a dramatic fall in the sense of belonging. According to the Hebrew Seniorlife assessment, that means poorer spiritual and emotional health throughout our culture. The bottom line: community is in decline, loneliness is on the rise. And this trend is leading to higher rates of divorce, addiction, depression, anxiety and suicide. In the midst of these troubling trends, we hear Jesus’ words as relayed by John, to the early followers of Jesus. So let’s unpack the metaphor of the sheepfold, with Jesus as the gate. We can imagine the sheepfold of ancient times as an enclosure made from dry stone walls. This is the place the sheep belonging to various shepherds would be kept at nighttime, in order to protect them from predators and thieves. The techniques to gate and lock the enclosure were primitive. So often a gatekeeper would lie across the entrance to the sheepfold, to protect the animals inside. When the shepherds arrived in the morning, each sheep would know their master’s voice and readily be led by him to pasture. The sheepfold is sanctuary – a safe place – for the sheep. The formerly blind man, who was thrown out of his previous community, can find welcome here. Likewise, those who feel isolated in our culture ought to find safety and welcome within our churches. The elderly, those dealing with disabilities, the poor, the disenfranchised, people who are far away or estranged from their families of origin. These are the people for whom our church may provide sanctuary. In a culture of loneliness doesn’t the sheepfold sound appealing? Wouldn’t people who are isolated from one another, and lacking a feeling of belonging, like to get inside that comforting space to be protected by the gatekeeper? Aren’t we all tired of “Bowling Alone”, left to fend for ourselves. [2] It seems not. Or at least people are not seeing church in that way. It seems that the mainline church has a PR problem. In an article I read recently, The Reverend Emily Heath talks about a discussion Heath had with younger adults in a pub setting. Members of the group “shared that when peers heard they attended church, they often reacted negatively. Their friends often assumed that Christian faith meant disregard for the rights of women and LGBT people, rejection of the idea of evolution and acceptance of biblical inerrancy.” [3] This is wrong, we know, but how do we correct these assumptions, at least about our own church? Rev. Heath explains that many people in our culture, who have turned away from church, do so because of suffering some kind of pain or rejection in their original place of worship. When I hear these kinds of stories, I feel angry. They do not conjure an image of the sheepfold with the loving gatekeeper making a place of belonging for all who need it. But Heath notes there are two problems here. The first is with the original church that hurt the person … “but the second is the fact that no other church ever came along and told them that what was done to them was not God’s will.” Here is our job: to tell people that what was done to them is wrong, that they belong in the sheepfold, lovingly guarded by a gatekeeper would protect them from any more hurt and pain. My friends, you and I … we are in the right place, we are where we belong. We are safe, because we have a sheepfold here, to which we are all belong. But we have a PR problem … how to we tell the lonely ones, the isolated ones, the rejected ones that they belong here too? Today, I leave that question with you. Amen. [1] http://nationalhomeless.org/issues/lgbt/ [2] Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, (Simon and Schuster Paperbacks, New York, 2000) [3] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rev-emily-c-heath/mainline-christianity-public-relations-problem_b_993126.html |
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