Holy Communication Preached on May 20th, 2018 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Acts 2:1-21 A friend once told me that she believed that all problems between people were caused by a failure of communication. At the time I thought she had it wrong. How could all the broken relationships, violence, even wars in the world, be resolved by simple, effective communication? But as I have considered this idea over time I have begun to think she might be onto something. Communication comes down to understanding. It involves listening to another with empathy. It involves sharing our deepest truths in a way that can be heard by the other. This kind of communication requires vulnerability. If we are to be the first to reveal those needs and feelings that we often keep tucked away inside, we will need the courage to be vulnerable. It isn’t easy, but it is what sets the stage for what I’m calling Holy Communication today. In our story from the book of Acts, we hear of the disciples and followers of Jesus being all together in a house in Jerusalem. Suddenly a violent wind rushes through that house and tongues of fire rest on each of them. This is a dramatic scene and there are many spectators, we can assume that the disturbance spills out into the streets. It is a holiday – Shavuot – which takes place fifty days after Passover. This is a harvest festival and the anniversary of the giving of the law to the Jewish people. Many Jews, from all around the known world are gathered in the city. When Peter and the other eleven begin to speak, they realize that this visit of the Spirit of God has come with a special gift. The disciples: these uneducated working men of Galilee, are able to be understood by all those gathered around. The visitors to Jerusalem do not need to rely on their broken Hebrew or Aramaic. They can understand, quite clearly, as though they were hearing in their own native languages. Peter, the spokesperson for the group, takes this opportunity to interpret what has happened in the light of scripture. He remembers that the prophet Joel had prophesied that in the last days, God would pour out God’s spirit on all flesh; on people who do not usually understand one another; on people who, in their culture, are usually divided and kept on the lower rungs of the social structure. The Spirit will be poured out on old men, male and female slaves, young men and women. All are considered equal, in this outpouring of the Spirit; this great gift of understanding and communication. Now, let me be the first to admit that mastery of languages that are foreign to me has not been my strength in life. When I entered secondary school in England I began to study French. In my first year I learned the names for colors, fruits, vegetables, and various objects as well as some regular and irregular verbs. I did so well that I was assigned to a Latin class, in addition, for my second year. It was downhill from there. The more extensive vocabularies, particularities of grammar and various verb tenses overwhelmed me. I never gained more than a basic understanding. Years later when I applied to seminary, I checked – would I be able to graduate with a Master of Divinity without taking classes in Hebrew or Greek – and I was let off the hook. I am convinced that only the miracle of the first Pentecost would enable me to speak other languages any better than an uneducated Galilean. However, when I began studying for my divinity degree I was required to choose a “Core Competency” for my studies. I chose “Communicating.” I still see communicating as being perhaps the most important aspect of my ministry here with you. I don’t just mean my communication to you, through sermons and other teachings. I mean our communication with one another: our mutual discovery of what it means to communicate with empathy and understanding; our modeling of that kind of communication for the community around us. And, in the end, the miracle of understanding in different tongues at that first Pentecost, is a message about what communication can be when we are aware of the Holy Spirit in our midst. This is what Holy Communication is like. It is a tragic irony that there has been so little Holy Communication between peoples at the site of the first Pentecost – Jerusalem and Palestine - over the centuries. Most recently, communications between Palestinians and Israelis broke down completely. To quote a news story from National Public Radio just this week: “In Jerusalem on Monday, hundreds of American and Israeli dignitaries gathered around a specially built stage at the newly designated embassy, while diplomats from most of the world stayed away. In Gaza, thousands of Palestinians approached — and in some places, stormed — the border fences that surround their small territory, and Israeli troops opened fire. Gaza health authorities said at least 60 Palestinians were killed and more than 1,300 suffered gunshot wounds.” [1] And, of course, at home here in the United States, different sides of the politic divide are failing to communicate and reach agreement. In these times, one of the most urgent matters for our leaders is to put an end to gun violence in schools. I am convinced that this is something within their reach, if only leaders would practice active listening and speaking deep truths with one another. While politic posturing continues, Holy Communication is lost. And then in family life, many couples divorce because they have not learned to communicate their feelings and needs, and they have not learned to listen to one another. With so many difficulties in communication in our times, we may wish that we could get back to that first Pentecost, and recapture the gift of the Holy Spirit. We can be assured, though, that the event of Pentecost was a mark of the gift of the Holy Spirit. The God’s Spirit has not gone away. We are promised that she is with us for all time. God’s Spirit is with us, and it is possible to rediscover the gift of Holy Communication. Marshall B. Rosenberg, author of the book “Nonviolent Communication”, was a specialist in effective communication and designed training programs to help teach conflict resolution. [2] Rosenberg’s style involves exchanging words in ways that exclude judgments, blame and violence. Participants are encouraged to listen for the other’s needs and feelings in times of conflict and to use empathy to diffuse danger. In his work as a non-violent communicator, Rosenberg facilitated communications between rival street gangs, couples on the verge of divorce, parents and children, as well as initiating peace programs in worn-torn areas such as the Middle East, Northern Ireland, Rwanda, Serbia and Croatia. [3] In his writing, Rosenberg talks of facilitating communications with a street gang in Cleveland. At first the gang members were dismissive of his attempts to talk with them, and ridiculed him when he said his feelings were hurt by their reaction. But then Rosenberg switched his approach to listening for the needs and feelings beneath the gang members’ bravado. When he empathized with their frustration at being sent a teacher who did not understand the dangers of their neighborhood, they began to open up. Most of his communication with them was to reflect the feelings and the needs he heard in what they said. During the chaplaincy part of my training for ministry, my teachers reminded me that the behaviors and reactions of others have nothing to do with me. This summarized by the mantra “it’s not about you.” I had some trouble internalizing the idea, though, especially when someone directed anger toward me. I would revert to a defensive posture, and assume that I was the object the anger. Sadly, though, I discovered the truth of this saying “it’s not about you” on the “Aging in Place” unit where I as working. I was being introduced to the residents of the facility at a tea party and I chose to sit next to a woman who was alone. She immediately turned to me, looking anxious and upset and chided “get away from me!” Some of the other residents tried to sympathize with me, telling me that the woman was mean. Yet I knew that this woman I had never met before was not being mean. Her response was not a reaction to me and my attempt to befriend her. It was all about her and her anxiety. My supervisor reflected later, perhaps what she wanted to say was “come closer to me, I’m lonely.” I will never know exactly what was going on in her troubled mind, but I will remember to listen for what is underneath the reaction. Practicing Holy Communication in our daily lives, by making room for God’s Spirit, takes courage. We need to become vulnerable enough to share our needs and feelings. We need to listen empathetically to the other’s words, reflecting back what is beneath those words. It may seem unfair that we are expected to do the work for others. In the case of nonviolent communication, it is ideal for both parties involved in a conflict to practice together. But, one-sided nonviolent communication is also effective, and may even keep us safe in situations where we need to diffuse danger. And so, why don’t we commit to practicing Holy Communication, between one another here in our church as well as in our families, our work places, our schools and our neighborhoods? Our personal relationships will surely be enriched. When we listen, but also express our needs and desires, our working relationships will be more whole. And we may well provide a model for Holy Communication among the people we meet each day. Today we celebrate the gift of God’s Holy Spirit to all the people of the Earth. And so may we live into the Spirit’s birthday gift of Holy Communication. May all God’s Spirit filled people say, Amen [1]https://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2018/05/18/611940486/deep-contradictions-remain-at-the-core-of-the-israeli-palestinian-conflict [2]Marshall B. Rosenberg, “Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life, 3rdEdition: Life-Changing Tools for Healthy Relationships”, (Puddle Dancer Press, Encinitas CA ,2015) [3]http://www.jerusalem-academy.org/marshall-b-rosenberg.html
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Hitting Reset Preached on May 13th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Acts 1:1-11 This past week I spent time on a study retreat with some fellow students. We enjoyed a few glorious days in a renovated historic farmhouse over looking a vista of New Hampshire beauty. My fellow student, Barbara, and I had rooms in a second farmhouse, up a steep, rutted track. Most evenings we retired to read and rest while there was still light in the sky. But on the last evening, we celebrated the last of our four retreats together in the main farmhouse until after dark. When we were finally ready for bed, Barbara and I stepped out and chuckled at our own clumsiness in the darkness. Then Barbara stopped and said “Liz, look up … the stars!” In this place, 2 hours west and north of Boston, we took in the intensity of the starlit sky unadulterated by city light. There is something universal about looking up at the starry night sky in awe. I felt awe at the beauty of the deep blue sky filled with bright stars. And I felt awe at the knowledge that these bright lights are really suns, light years away from our solar system. It is this kind of awe, that leads us to use the name “heavens” long after we have stopped thinking of the sky as the physical home of God. Thoughts of stars beyond stars, the more than 100 billion galaxies in the universe, and our planet, and Earth a speck in this vast cosmos, must surely inspire awe in just about everyone. And for those of us who are inclined, we attribute that awe and wonder to work of our creator God. Our story today involves awe and wonder, as the disciples look up. In this instance it is a daytime sky. We heard the same story twice, coming from the end of the gospel of Luke and the beginning of the book of Acts, both written by the same author. The gospel tells of the life and teachings of Jesus, whereas Acts tells of the activities of the apostles and the very early church after Jesus has ascended. The event of the Ascension of Jesus links these two books. The telling, in the gospel, and the retelling in Acts, is rather like motif and reprise in musical theater. In the version we heard from Acts, the ascension takes place some forty days after the resurrection. Jesus takes the disciples up onto a mountain outside Jerusalem. He gives them a commission: when they receive power from the Holy Spirit they are to be his witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. Then he begins to ascend and a cloud covers him so that he is taken “up” out of their sight. The disciples are still gazing up at the space in the sky where they last saw him, when two men in white robes appear beside them. The men ask the disciples, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” The two men ask the disciples why they are standing gazing up. Yet we know that their beloved Jesus has just disappeared from their view. Why would they notgaze up? Why would they notfix their gaze on Jesus? And, at the same time, the explanation given by the men in white is confusing. If Jesus is going to return the same way that he went, why not keep their gaze fixed on the spot where he was last seen? Isn’t this the place the exact spot he will return in due course? It seems that this is not what the men in white are getting at. Rather they are giving reassurance. The disciples have been on a roller coaster ride of emotions these past few weeks. First they thought that Jesus would take power and reign in Jerusalem, as they entered for the Passover feast on the day we know as Palm Sunday. Next, as Holy Week proceeded, it seemed that their hopes were dashed and that Jesus had taken from them by the violence of the crucifixion. Their community was in collapse, they believed that the mission had failed and he was gone forever. But then, three days later, they were overjoyed to meet the resurrected Jesus, wounds and all. He was alive and death was overcome. Now these forty days later, he speaks words of commission and blesses them before he disappears in a cloud. No wonder they are stuck in a trance. The men in white remind the disciples that Jesus will return, and they are to turn their gaze back to the world. They are enforcing Jesus’ instructions and teachings. There is no need to keep their eyes fixed on that one spot, because he is not there. Jesus will return, but as he has already said, it is not for them to know the times that God has in mind for the completion of God’s reign. Rather they are to wait to receive the power of the Holy Spirit, so that they might bring the good news of Jesus, for every poor and anxious soul, to the very ends of the earth. The experience of the Ascension appears to be a kind of reset. And the time of waiting, praising and praying is like a recovering mode. The disciples, now apostles, will get back to ministry soon enough, following this essential time of waiting. Over the past weeks, the needs of the wider world and the immediate needs of friends, family and neighbors have seemed overwhelming to me. The reading of “Waking Up White” in our Sunday book group tuned my eyes and ears to the many injustices for people of color in our community. My news channels showed horrendously racist events: a young black man, wearing a tuxedo after attending his prom, slammed to the ground by police at a Waffle House in North Carolina. And two police officers being called on a black student at Yale University, because she fell asleep while working on a paper in her dorm common room. Just two of many instances of systemic racism. When I turned to news of the wider world I read of air strikes in Iran, Syria and Israeli occupied Palestine. Then a friend updated me on the elderly residents of villages in Puerto Rico still without power and supplies following Hurricane Maria. Among my family members, friends, neighbors and community there are those who are grappling with grief and loss; those who are struggling with addictions and other diseases; those who are been hurt and re-traumatized by the rhetoric of our time. You might think that in a world with this much need and hurt, the general attitude would be one of kindness, generosity and caring. But, sadly it is not. Each day, as I am out and about, I see the way people are retreating defensively into separate groups. Fear of one another is being cultivated by an angry public discourse. In the midst of all this, I hear Jesus’ commission to witness to good news for the poor, healing for the sick and suffering, and peace in the midst of conflict. And then I am inclined to think it all depends on me. As these needs mount up my overwhelming sense of responsibility paralyzes me. And I know I’m not the only one. So many of you, here in this congregation, care for others, both professionally and in your daily lives. You care for your families: your children navigating the demands of academics, sports and their social scene. You care for your elders: soothing their anxieties over their losses of independence and their declining health. You care for your communities, advocating for those who cannot speak for themselves. You care for this church and its aging building, showing up to address all too frequent emergencies and to provide hospitality for the groups and guests who use this space. There are times when we all seem to think it depends only on us. And this can been overwhelming and paralyzing. Looking up on Thursday night, to gaze at the night sky, reset my soul. That evening, I found deep peace in gazing at those faraway, but brightly shining stars. I remembered that our earth is just a speck in the universe. The verse from Robert Browning’s poem, Pippa’s Song comes to mind: “God’s in His heaven. All’s right with the world.” Perhaps an Ascension Day version might say that since Jesus has ascended to heaven, ultimately all will be well. In our moments of reset we are not supposed to forget the world and all its needs. But we are intended to pause and breathe for the work that is to be done. If a beautiful view of the night sky is what you need, I pray it will be what you receive. Perhaps your reset means an afternoon of singing and dancing, calling an old friend, settling into a well-loved book, or taking a later afternoon walk in the park. The vision of Jesus taken up into the clouds was a reset for the disciples’ souls. Their response, like ours, when we have a glimpse of heaven, is to sing joyful praises to God. That is what we do, here, in worship each week. The new apostles wait for a short while, doing what they need to do in order to prepare. Soon the Spirit will be with them and then there will be no time to waste. Their reset and their healing will be finished. There is a vast world out there, hungry and thirsty to know the love of God made known in Jesus. They will need put on their sandals and get to work. And, of course, in our world there is work to be done. There are wounds to bind, and bellies to fill. There are borders to cross and bridges to be built. There is housing to construct and walls to be torn down. And still, we are to pause, to wait, to be clothed by God’s power. And so, may all God’s people take a deep reset breath, and then say Amen. Paradigm Shift Preached on May 6th, 2018 Scripture: Acts 10:44-48 The early church is just beginning. Peter, Philip and the other apostles have received the Holy Spirit. Thousands of Jewish pilgrims have been baptized in Jerusalem. Now the apostles are traveling, beginning in Judea, to bring the Good News to the dispersed Jewish people. But, someone is going ahead of them. The Spirit cannot be confined, she has been out and about speaking to all kinds of people! And so, for our stories from the book of Acts, these past two weeks, we learn of what the Spirit has to teach the Apostles from completely unexpected places. The early church is experiencing what might be called a “paradigm shift.” Last week we heard that Philip was led out to a wilderness road. There he met an Ethiopian eunuch, a treasurer of his queen, in a chariot returning home following a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. After Philip helped to interpret the scripture he was reading, the eunuch points to some nearby water and asks the question: “here is water, what is to prevent me from being baptized?” What prevented it? The man’s nationality; his sexual status; his employment by a foreign sovereign. But the Spirit posed the question and so Philip responded. He baptized the man, they both go on their way, rejoicing. Meanwhile, in our brief excerpt from the book of Acts today, the apostle Peter is put into a similar situation. A Roman centurion, Cornelius, who lives in the city of Caesarea, is known to be a “God fearer.” He prays, gives alms and is curious about this one-God of Israel. Today we might say he is a spiritual person. But the Holy Spirit has something in mind for Cornelius and sends him an angel to tell him to send for Peter who is staying in the coastal city of Joppa. Peter is unaware of these events, and goes up onto the roof to pray before lunch. He falls into a trance, and sees a vision of a great sheet filled with all kinds of creatures descending from the heavens. They are things that kosher Jews are forbidden to eat. And yet, he hears a voice: “Get up, Peter. Kill, eat.” This is a very strange invitation! When he resists on the grounds that such food would be profane the voice says "what God has made clean, you must not call profane." He is puzzled! This vision repeats a total of three times. In the midst of this confusion, the men from Cornelius show up and invite Peter to go with them to Caesarea. There they find Cornelius’s entire household gathered. And so Peter begins to preach his well-rehearsed sermon, proclaiming the good news of the coming of Jesus to the world. But he is interrupted. The Holy Spirit falls upon the Gentiles and there is no choice but to baptize them. Peter finally understands the meaning of the vision and asks "can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?" Peter stays in the household, as the guest of Cornelius the Gentile, something he would never have done before. And I imagine that he had a great time with his new friends. Two fantastical stories, two baptisms and a complete paradigm shift for the apostles and the early church. Up until this moment, only circumcised Jews have been baptized in the name of Jesus. “The way” of Jesus has been rooted in the Jerusalem temple, and all followers have been required to follow Jewish law. This paradigm shift opens an entirely new way of understanding Christian baptism. It’s not surprising that the Spirit had to lead the way. Just last week, I watched a Netflix movie called “Come Sunday.” This movie tells the story of Carlton Pearson, an African American Pentecostal bishop. Bishop Pearson led “Higher Dimensions” church: one of the largest churches in Tulsa, Oklahoma. During the 1990s, the church attracted up to 5,000 black and white worshippers on Sundays. Bishop Pearson is portrayed as a charismatic preacher, stirring up the members of his church with powerful sermons. As each sermon reaches its climax, he begins to sing a rousing hymn. The organist picks up the tune, next the choir joins in and soon the entire congregation is brought to their feet, waving their hands and swaying. I admit, I felt a little jealous of Bishop Pearson’s abilities and wondered whether Sally, our pianist, and I might be able to pull off the same effect. As soon as one worship service was over, Pearson was preparing for the next one. He traveled to many preaching engagements and where ever he went he would attempt to save the unbelievers he encountered. As he traveled, he will reach out to the person sitting next to him on the plane, to see if they were in need of salvation. The alternative, he believed, was these unbelievers would be destined for hell. But, one day Bishop Pearson’s belief system was turned upside down. He was watching news of the genocide and displacement in Rwanda. He saw starving children and babies who were unable to nurse from starving mothers. Out loud he asked how God could allow this suffering and then simply suck the dying children into hell. He wondered how he could possibly find a way to preach the gospel to these people. But then he admitted to himself and to God that he could not save the whole world. In this moment, Pearson heard God speaking to him: “precisely … that’s what we did.” In Christ, God had come to the world, to save allpeople, not from the wrath of God, but from the evils of humanity. The next week in church Pearson came clean. He said they he no longer believed that a loving God would condemn God’s own children to hell. This shook the foundations of the Higher Dimensions church. Many members left and four of the eight pastors went away to start a new church. Bishop Pearson was condemned as a heretic by the Board of Pentecostal Bishops. The church kept going for a while, as Pearson preached his “gospel of inclusion”, but it eventually folded. Bishop Pearson still had his family, but he had lost many of his closest friends and his church. He was devastated. Healing came when Pearson was invited to preach at “City of Refuge”, a UCC church, in Oakland, California. Bishop Yvette Flunder, pastor of the church, describes herself as a same-gender-loving woman, of African American and Native American descent. Her congregation, mainly black and LGBT, is outwardly and visibly open and affirming. They have a special ministry to all marginalized people, especially those with AIDs and HIV. They are literally saving people, often from the abuses of their own families. Pearson confessed that there was a time when he would have been terrified at the thought of consorting with sinners, gays and Unitarians. And yet, Bishop Flunder’s church welcomed him as a preacher. They ministered to him, by hugging him and washing his feet at a time when he was lonely and grieving. Today, Pearson feels great freedom from the exhausting need to witness to everyone he meets. He serves on staff at a Unitarian Universalist church in Tulsa. Bishop Pearson, Philip and Peter all experienced a paradigm shift. The boundaries that they had perceived around the message of the love of Jesus had been broken down. Our stories, today, focus on the leading of the Holy Spirit to dramatic new perspectives: paradigm shifts. The Holy Spirit is still leading in this way today, but as our stories tell, the Holy Spirit can be pretty disruptive. When I first heard my call to come here to pastor at Wollaston Congregational Church, I didn’t know what kind of paradigm shift I would experience. I just knew it would be something. On my first day here with you, a friend sent me a message saying: “I’m praying that all goes well as you worship together, Liz, and God’s presence would be very tangible.” You may remember the weather that day was unsettled and warm. The wind was gusted and slammed closed the front door. I replied, “… tangible indeed, the Holy Spirit blew through and there was a thunderstorm in the middle of the sermon.” I was only half joking. And yet, I didn’t really know what was to come. This congregation had earned the reputation as “The Turnaround Church” and you had all done good work with Rev. MaryLou. I had thoughts of the “Church Revitalization” I had learned about seminary. Our colleagues in the UCC were ready with programs for us to adopt. I had visions of popup office hours in a local coffee shop; “invite your friends to church” days; extending an offer support to stressed parents of young children. But I realized that the remaining members of the church were weary from the exhausting efforts of growing the church. Meanwhile, in just 10 or 12 years, our culture has undergone its own paradigm shift since the days of “turnaround.” As the generations of “churched” people age, there are fewer who have any experience of what a welcoming church community means. The media project a one-dimensional characterization of Christianity that looks like Bishop Pearson’s first church in Tulsa. On the other hand, there are those Christians who also paint one-dimensional picture of so called “liberals” as heretics, who have lost Jesus in their quest for social justice. Now wonder that so many people in our culture remain largely ignorant of the expansive love that the Spirit would have us share with them. But, also, our neighborhood here in Wollaston seems to have experienced something of a paradigm shift. There is a growing diversity of people, some of whom have visited our church and bringing in their joy. Over the past year, we have welcomed several young adults who have brought gifts of music, public speaking, poetry reading, and passions for racial justice and advocacy. We have the beginnings of a new young adult group. These young adults have all have expressed their desire to belong to a church that is welcoming and affirming of all people. During January’s Annual Meeting we adopted our “who we are” statement. The statement expresses who we are at this time, but also who we might become as we continue along the path we believe the Spirit is leading. The Spirit is leading us through this paradigm shift. We are not all the way through and she is not done with us yet. Like a chick breaking out of its shell, we do not now what we will discover on the outside. But I do believe that we, like Philip, like Peter, like Bishop Pearson, will find joy and healing on the other side. May all God’s people say, Amen |
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