For Such a Time as This: The Story of Esther Preached on September 30th2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: The Book of Esther Over the past few weeks our Old Testament passages have been taken from the “Wisdom” literature, or “Writings” of the Hebrew Bible. The passages that we read each week are excerpts from the longer books that make up the Bible. The passage assigned for this week is from the book of Esther. This is the only time Esther appears in our lectionary readings, and to read only the excerpt would not make sense. The book, Esther, actually tells a story that is important to the Jewish people. In fact this story is remembered in the joyous holiday of Purim to this day. And so, I am going to start the sermon today by telling the story of Esther. Now, the story is set during the reign of King Xerxes, somewhere between 486 and 465 BCE, in Susa the capital city of the Persian Empire. The Jewish people live in diaspora. They have been separated from Jerusalem and the temple for 100 years now and live dispersed throughout the empire. There is quite a large population of Jewish people living in Susa. Some are assimilated into the culture, so that it is impossible to know they are Jewish. Others maintain their identity at the cost of appearing “different” from the Persians and risking persecution. Esther is a young and very beautiful Jewish woman who keeps her identity a secret. She has been advised to do so by Mordecai, her uncle and guardian. The story begins with the King, Xerxes, giving an absurdly extravagant banquet for dignitaries from all around. This banquet is a display of the “vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor of his majesty.” It goes on for 7 days. The furnishings are off scale: finest linen, gold, marble. Wine is served in golden goblets and the guests drink without restraint. This is an all male gathering, while Xerxes’ queen, Vashti, entertains the women separately in the palace. On the 7thday of eating and drinking, Xerxes calls for Queen Vashti to dress in her finest clothes and come to the feast. He wants to show his drunken guests what a great man he is, to have such a beautiful woman as his queen. Vashti realizes what a spectacle and humiliation this will be and refuses to come. Outraged and embarrassed, the king consults with law makers to permanently change the law of the land to keep wives from rebelling against their husbands. All women are required to give honor to their husbands - that every man in the empire would be master in his own house. In his anger, Xerxes banishes Vashti. But later decides he needs a new queen. He sends out his servants to gather all the beautiful young virgins of the land into a harem. Esther is one of those young women who are rounded up and taken to the palace to be prepared for presentation to the king. These girls are subjected to “cosmetic treatments” for months on end, until it is time for them to be sent in to “delight” the king. It turns out that Esther pleases the king better than all the other virgins and is chosen to be his new wife. Through all these preparations, Esther’s uncle, Mordecai, is worried and hangs around the palace gate listening for news of his niece. During this time, he overhears two of the king’s eunuch servants conspiring to murder the king. Mordecai tells Esther about this plot, which Esther conveys to Xerxes. The traitors are found out and they are hung on gallows. Now Xerxes owes his life to Mordecai. At this stage in the story we are introduced to the villain: Haman. Haman becomes King Xerxes’ viceroy and insists of obeisance of all the subjects. As a Jew, Mordecai does not bow to this Gentile ruler. This enrages Haman, and he turns his anger toward Mordecai and also Jews in general. He determines to “destroy, kill and annihilate all the Jews, young and old, women and children on a single day.” The day will be chosen by casting lots. He is plotting a pogrom! Mordecai appeals to Esther to use her influence with the king. This is a terrifying prospect for Esther, as she knows that the king has the right to put to death anyone who approaches his throne without a summons. But Mordecai persists with her, suggesting that maybe she has “come to royal position for such a time as this.” Esther asks all the Jews in Susa to fast with her for three days, so as to be certain of what she will do. Finally she decides “if I perish, I perish.” What will be will be. Then, with a plan in mind, she finds the courage to approach the throne. The king spares her life and Esther invites both Haman and Xerxes to a series of banquets she is preparing. The men both enjoy the first banquet very much, as Esther plies them with wine and compliments. Xerxes is so pleased, he guarantees Esther he will grant whatever she asks. Haman is proud to be invited to this private banquet and yet he is still angry with Mordecai’s failure to honor him. He decides that he will set up the gallows for Mordecai’s execution at his own house. Later that night, perhaps suffering from indigestion, Xerxes cannot sleep. For a little light reading he reviews his records. He realizes that he has not paid Mordecai back for his loyalty in uncovering the assignation plot. At this moment, Haman returns to talk to the king about his plan to hang Mordecai. Xerxes asks Haman how best to honor someone who has shown great loyalty. Of course, Haman thinks that he is the person, and advises the king to dress the man in royal robes, give him a royal horse to ride and parade him through the streets. Haman is outraged when it is Mordecai who is given the parade. He goes home to sulk, until his next banquet with Esther. At the banquet, Xerxes asks Esther what he can do for her … he will do whatever she desires. She asks that he will spare her life, and the lives of her people from someone who is planning their annihilation. Horrified, Xerxes asks who is this person? Esther points to Haman, the villain: “An adversary and enemy! This vile Haman!” Haman attempts to beg Esther for mercy, but even this backfires. Xerxes thinks he is molesting Esther and has him taken away to be hanged. Ironically it is done on the same gallows Haman had set up for Mordecai. The story ends happily for the Jewish people. Esther inherits Haman’s estate, Mordecai receives his signet ring. The Jews are granted the right to assemble and protect themselves from assaults. It is a good day for the Jewish people. It’s only a story, of course, a pantomime. The characters are exaggerated, the men in power are buffoonish. During the holiday, Purim, Jewish people ham it up: lampooning the rich and foolish King Xerxes, booing and hissing at the villain, Haman. Esther is the one book in the Bible that does not mention God. The Jewish people are freed solely by the actions of Esther and Mordecai. God feels distant in this story. Perhaps the people may have been far away from Jerusalem for so long they have forgotten what God is like. Yet, without being named God is present. Esther acts with courage and wisdom that are God-given. We hear echoes of Esther centuries later, when Jesus says to the disciples "See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Esther certainly was a sheep among wolves: a young virgin rounded up into the King’s harem, and finding herself in the company of Xerxes and Haman. She was both an innocent as a dove, and grew to be as wise as a serpent. And Mordecai’s exhortation rings true, all these years later. As he implores Esther to do something about the threat to her people, he suggests that she has “come to royal position for such a time as this.” And I wonder, do we all have times and places we have come for such a time as this? Some years ago I attended a retreat organized by the women of an African Methodist Episcopal Church. I went with a small group of white women from my suburban church who had decided to accept the invitation from our sister church in the city. The setting was a resort on Cape Cod and the gatherings took place in a large tent set up for functions. For that weekend the tent had the feel of a revival meeting. There was loud praise music from a band, powerful preaching, and praying in tongues. As soon as our group arrived, we headed into the first prayer meeting. I felt as though I’d been hit by a tidal wave of holy presence – as I sat in the midst of these faithful, spirit filled women – and my tears began to flow. At the time of the retreat, the long-time and beloved pastor of our church, Ken, was dealing with terminal cancer. Our church was dealing with the repercussions. These circumstances had drawn me into church life in a deep way, and I had begun an email prayer circle for our pastor and our church. I was coming to the realization that the Spirit was calling me to an even deeper commitment. In my mind this was straight-forward: would I continue in my career as a software developer and do my church work in my spare time? Or would I look for a way to attend seminary and enter ministry as my vocation? But the Holy Spirit had bigger questions in mind for me. That morning there were break-out workshops and I attended one for women entering a new phase of life. This was intended for women over 40, and so I was at the younger end of the group. I barely remember the content of the workshop, although I’m sure it was helpful. At the end of the workshop the leader asked each woman in the room to find another women they had not known before and bless them. Often blessings, in the AME tradition are given in the name of the biblical patriarchs: Abraham, Jacob, Isaac and so on. The leader invited us to bless our sisters in the name of the women of the biblical stories: Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca. One of the women had blessed me, and I had blessed her. But then, one of the retreat leaders, a strikingly tall and elegant woman, turned and said– “Oh, I need to bless Liz.” She came and laid her hands on me … blessing me for what I had been and what I would become, I heard her say I had been called “for such a time as this.” I was blown away by this blessing, which has been so wonderfully channeled through this Spirit-filled woman. Such a time as this– in my world, at the time, meant the illness of my pastor. It meant preparing the church to say ‘good bye’ to him. It meant praying for and discerning who would become our next pastor. It meant ministering to people who could not imagine the church without Ken. And, yet, such a time as this actually means much more. As I proceeded through seminary and went into various churches and other settings, I experienced many more such times as this. At the UCC church in Stoughton, the Senior Minister had to step down very suddenly due to another serious cancer diagnosis. My seminary colleague, Mary, and I ministered at such a time is thisin that place, where I was able to bring my experience from my home church. Of course,such a time as this is always happening. It is not a finite event, over and dealt with. The times that my home church was going through seemed so momentous at that time, and yet the history of the world is filled with such times as this. The German pastor and theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer is one example of a person who found himself in a certain place at a certain time, and was called to act with courage. Bonhoeffer was born in Germany in 1906. At the age of 24 Bonhoeffer came to the United States to study theology at Union College. However, he realized very soon that his calling at that time was to be in Germany. When Hitler came to power in 1933, Bonhoeffer called for the church to resist. Ultimately, he became involved in a plot to assassinate Hitler. Bonhoeffer saw the need to remove Hitler from power, by whatever means, as greater than his own need for a clear conscience. The plot was discovered and Bonhoeffer was imprisoned, and in 1945 as the Nazi regime was collapsing, he was executed by hanging. Bonhoeffer truly saw himself as a person who was called for “such a time as this.” Have you ever wondered why you have found yourself in a certain place at a certain time? Perhaps it seems like a very simple coincidence: you go out at a certain time to run an errand and find yourself called upon to help a stranger in need. It just happens that you have the life skills that this person needs. Or perhaps, you find yourself in the proximity of someone in a position of authority and power. Could you influence this person, so that the needs of others can heard? Or perhaps you, or I, might be called to tell our story, to exonerate an innocent person, or to convict and bring down a guilty, mighty person from their throne. And if that time ever comes, may God grant you, or I, the wisdom and the courage of Esther. But where we are right now, who knows, perhaps we have come into the royal palace for such a time as this. May all God’s holy people say, Amen
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Welcoming the Vulnerable Ones Preached on September 23rd, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Mark 9:30-37 In this week’s passage from the gospel of Mark, Jesus gives the disciples the second prediction of his suffering and death. The first time he revealed this news, he said "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” They have not really taken the message in, though, and so for a second time, as they are traveling through Galilee, he tells them again: “The son of man is being handed over into human hands, and they will kill him, and having been killed after three days he will be raised.” And again, we are told, they do not understand but they are afraid to say so. Imagine the scene. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. The last few nights they’d been talking about how the crowds have fallen away. Ever since Jesus started this talk about his suffering and death. Why doesn’t he conjure up another sign of greatness, like those awesome miracles: the feeding of thousands, the dramatic healings and exorcisms? These are the kinds of things that draw the people in. Peter has already challenged Jesus on this downward turn of the message. A separation is building between Jesus and the group. With a few pushes and shoves, the 12 drop back. Jesus continues his resolute and solitary way out of earshot. Peter pulls a hacky sack out of his robes and they begin to kick it around. Matthew jumps onto James’ back and they tumbled down to the ground scuffle that turns into a scrum of disciples. Soon they are arguing back and forth, “I’m the greatest!” declares Peter, “No,” says John, the beloved disciple, “it’s obviously me!” They know that this posturing goes against all Jesus is saying. And yet, it seems that they can’t help themselves. Perhaps they needed a little good-natured sparring, to break the tension in this emotional journey. Later when Jesus asks them what they were talking about along the road, there is an awkward silence. They know their conversation topic was inappropriate. They heard his words from just a few days ago: “for those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it.” Jesus goes on as though they had filled him in on the whole thing. As they enter a home in Capernaum to stay the night, he calls them around him for yet another teaching. He tells them "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Then he scoops up a small child onto his lap. Perhaps she is carrying a serving dish back to the kitchen, or fetching a pitcher of water from the well. She enjoys the rest and laps up the attention she gets in Jesus’ arms. The other servants continue to scurry around preparing a meal for the guests. Usually she is at their beck and call: a servant of the all. And he says: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." This is nothing less than mind-blowing for the 12. Embracing a scruffy urchin, a kitchen help, means embracing Jesus? Not only that, lifting up this snotty nosed child, barely noticeable as the food is served, means lifting up the great Holy One of Israel. Really? They sit there in stunned silence, wondering what is coming next. Now, let’s put the story on pause for a moment, because this may not be the way we have heard it before. Perhaps it plays back a little differently in your memory, colored by Sunday School or years of reading this text a different way. When my children were small we used to play the “Wee Sing Bible” tape in the car. “Jesus loves the little children all the children of the world … they are precious in his sight.” We’d sing along. And in my own childhood Sunday School a firm favorite was “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong.” Oh, how we can hope that every child in the world might hear this message: that they are precious in Jesus’ sight. It’s not wrong. It conjures for me fond childhood memories. A little child all scrubbed up in her bathrobe is ready to be tucked into bed. Then she’s allowed a few moments with the honored guest at her parents’ dinner party. This is the domesticated version that plays in my mind. It is a message for children, but not grownups. The grownup message includes the full truth of Jesus’ suffering and death. It is the message of the cross. The little ones are weak, but Jesus is not showing any signs of strength. For their sake Jesus is becoming weak as well. To comprehend this, it is helpful to remember the status of children in Jesus’ time. For even the most loving parent, a child in the ancient world was a liability: economically and emotionally. Parents could barely afford the emotional toil of becoming attached to every infant before weaning, when mortality rates were the highest. And then, the surviving children needed food and clothing. They were expected to contribute. The economy did not allow for a carefree childhood. As soon a child could fetch and carry they were put to work. Children were on the lowest rung of the social ladder. The children of Jesus’ time were extremely vulnerable: vulnerable to childhood disease and infant mortality. And they were vulnerable because of their status in society: they had no personhood, they were simply the property of their fathers. They could be sold into slavery without any recourse: sent to work in the fields, or in the steamy hot kitchens … or worse. Jesus knows the suffering and abuse of these vulnerable ones, and he is planning to take it all on himself. He is approaching the authorities in Jerusalem, preparing to absorb all of their abuse of power. Soaking up, for the sake of the vulnerable ones, all the cruelty that humanity has to offer. The disciples are too busy tuning out this message that they do not hear Jesus say that in three days the son of man will rise again. That the suffering of the vulnerable ones will be transformed into new life, by his crucifixion and resurrection. How are we going to hear this story? Are we going to tune it out too like our fellow disciples? Will we retreat to our childhood imagery, the saccharine scene cute little cherubs at Jesus’ feet? Or are we going to take seriously his identification with the vulnerable. And, if we are able to handle this as grownups, who in our culture are the ones Jesus asks us to receive in his name? It’s shocking to think that children of Jesus’ day were considered to be non-persons. And yet, there are many children in our world and our nation today who suffer from non-personhood. All Hands In, is a non-profit organization in Massachusetts, dedicated to raising awareness about local human trafficking. They report that girls as young as 5 are known to have been trafficked and sold into prostitution. Between 14,500 and 17,500 victims are trafficked in the United States each year. [1] Traffickers frequently prey on runaway children, who are already experiencing some kind of trauma in their lives. The Polaris Project reports that “Youth without safe shelter and social supports are at higher risk of trafficking and exploitation.” 40% of homeless youth in the United States identify as LGBTQ. Traffickers exploit their needs and vulnerabilities. LGBTQ youth may be trafficked by intimate partners, family members, friends, or strangers.” [2] Recently, organizers from “All Hands In” have approached our church looking for space for one of their ministries. This ministry is a sewing studio for formerly trafficked women. The women will learn new skills and build their confidence as they create products for fundraising. All Hands In is working toward offering a two-year residency program to get victims of trafficking back on their feet. Wollaston Congregational Church has the opportunity to become a partner in this ministry. It is an exciting opportunity to embrace and tell the stories of women who were treated as non-persons when they were at their most vulnerable. Besides human trafficking, there is another troubling aspect of child abuse. In recent months more stories of abuse in the Catholic Church have been revealed. We Protestants may be tempted to point and say they we are not like that. But the truth is, child abuse has taken place in every type of religious institution from mega-churches to local mainline churches, as well as Jewish temples and Islamic mosques. I suspect that this is one reason parents are wary of bringing their children to church and Sunday School in these times. Jesus’ example of lifting up the vulnerable child is a reminder that we, the church, are always called to be on their side. We are called to listen to what they have to say and believe them, when they report abuse. We are called to remember that adults in positions of power are capable of just about anything. Children and youth must never be made feel afraid to tell their stories. The disciples distracted one another with talk of “greatness.” Jesus turns their sights back to the meaning of his coming suffering. He identifies with the weakness and lowly status of the child, so that the child may be lifted up. The end result, the good news, is that transformation is possible. Jesus will be raised, and those who have been abused and enslaved may be lifted up too. Our church has an opportunity to stand with Jesus on the side of children and others who are vulnerable to abuse. It is an opportunity to become the servant of all servants. First, we can create an open and affirming message of welcome for all children and youth, particularly LGBTQ youth who are so vulnerable. We can be clear about safe church practices, keeping children within sight of their parents, or with at least two CORI-checked unrelated adults. We can let the community know that this is our priority. And we can partner with All Hands In, to create a safe space for survivors of human trafficking: a space in which their lives may be transformed. Jesus loves the little children … they are precious in his sight. But, more than that, when we welcome vulnerable ones in his name, we welcome him. May all God’s children say, Amen. [1]http://www.allhandsinma.org/#whoweare [2]https://polarisproject.org/resources/sex-trafficking-and-lgbtq-youth Finding Wisdom Preached on September 16th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Focus scripture: Proverbs 1:20-33 Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice! Wait a minute, she raises her voice. Who is this she? Where did she come from? What is she doing in the middle of our Old Testament? And why have we not met her before? Yes, Wisdom is a person in our scriptures, or at least a personification. And Wisdom is a woman. The section of scripture that pays most attention to this figure of Wisdom is the Apocrypha. This is a collection of Jewish scriptures that were included in the Septuagint, the ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible. These books are not usually included in the Protestant Christian Bible, but almost always appear in study Bibles like mine. We meet Lady Wisdom or in Greek, Sophia, in the book called the Wisdom of Solomon: “Wisdom is radiant and unfading, and she is easily discerned by those who love her, and is found by those who seek her.” In the book of Proverbs we read from today, Sophia speaks, saying: “When there were no depths, I was brought forth when God established the heavens, I was there playing before [God] all the while” (Prov. 8:24, 30) Author and speaker, Sister Joyce Rupp writes: “Historically, the authors of the wisdom literature began this feminine reference to Sophia between 33 BCE and 4–5 CE. There are only four other figures who are mentioned more than Sophia in Jewish scripture (the Old Testament): Yahweh, Moses, David, and Job … it is quite incredible that so few know much about her.” [1] And so, today, we are going to get to know Sophia a little better. Wisdom, no doubt, is a desirable quality. Psalm 19, as we read today, says “the decrees of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple … more to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey, and drippings of the honeycomb.” But how do we attain her? How do we hear her cry, in the public square in the market place, above the clamor of other voices? How do we hear her truth above the clamor of other voices seeking our attention? There is an abundance of knowledge and information in our world today. But what has happened to Wisdom? We have the knowledge we need to provide safe drinking water to all the children of our nation, but do with have the wisdom? We have the information we need about climate change to anticipate the dramatic storms the East Coast experienced this weekend. There is infrastructure that could be adopted to protect the coasts and those who live there. But do we have the wisdom? We have the technology we need to provide safe effective energy to the homes in greater Boston. But following the awful events in Andover and Lawrence this past weekend I wonder if we have the wisdom? No, there is not a shortage of information. Our media puts out many anxiety-ladened reports each day. We may have focused on yesterday’s news for a time, but now, the voices scream, something else is front and center. Our attention is constantly pulled from one emergency to another, we are becoming distracted … distracted from the pursuit of truth and wisdom. We are a far cry from the wisdom that Sophia is calling us to rediscover. It is time to regroup and center ourselves. Time to keep our focus on the things that are essential. Here is the call of wisdom: to let go of fear and anxieties that restrict our vision and prevent us from listening to others. Wisdom calls us to open up to new possibilities. Some years ago, I was trying to keep all the balls of my life in the air, as I juggled work, childcare and kids’ activities, church and community commitments, and a little time for myself and my husband. I kept abreast of the news through National Public Radio and the weekly magazine, Newsweek. I thought that if I knew what was going on, I’d somehow have a handle on things. I did not really notice that my level of anxiety had risen to an intolerable point until the events of 17 years ago struck on September 11th, 2001. My husband had left the house early that bright and beautiful morning for a business trip to New York. My parents were staying with us, for their annual fall visit and our youngest daughter was playing happily on her day off from preschool. The phone rang, and I answered the call to hear my husband sigh and say “it’s me, I’m here in a suburb of New York, don’t worry I’m OK.” I was confused. He didn’t usually feel the need to check in on a quick trip like this. Then he told me about the plane that had crashed into the World Trade Center. It had departed from Boston, Logan, like he had that morning. He had landed safely at Newark, but others on a flight to California had not. He told me he was on the phone to a car rental company and would drive home that night. He’d already figured there would be no more flights that day. I turned on the TV, and minutes later saw the second plane crash. When my husband walked into the house, late that night, he told me of the plume of smoke he’d witnessed over Manhattan as he drove the lonely road home. His car was impounded at Logan for several days and my parents had to delay their return home until the flights resumed. I put them on the bus for one of the first flights out. They wore their British stoicism well, but I was a little fearful. Otherwise we’d gotten off lightly, with just a dose survivors’ guilt. The day after 9/11 I gathered with the mothers’ group at our church. Of course, the talk was all about that Tuesday. We became fixated on information. How could this happen in a place we had assumed was safe? Who had done this to us? Were they going to strike again? How could they be found and punished? And how could we keep our kids safe at school and at home? We were looking for anything to tell us how to be in control, to get a handle on the situation. The unrest and anxiety would sit with us for many months to come. But my own journey was just beginning. That fall the mothers’ group studied the book: “Leading a Gentle and Passionate Life” by Robert J. Wicks. [2] A snippet of wisdom from this book pointed me in the direction of Sophia and away from anxiety in the months that followed. In this book, Wicks describes meeting with the renowned spiritual guide Henri Nouwen. The meeting was to discuss Wicks’ work on a book, but before the men parted, he asked Nouwen for some guidance. He wanted a blessing - a word of wisdom - for inner peace during troubling times. Nouwen had to be persuaded, but finally he said: “Take a few moments every morning in silence and solitude. Read a few passages from Scripture. If you have a daily book of biblical readings or a lectionary, use that. Then once you have read these words of Scripture, sit quietly and let them nurture you in silence. Do this every day without fail and you shall be all right.” That advice resonated with me. I found a book of daily lectionary readings and reflections that I’ve followed for these past years. Perhaps not every day without fail, but I took the advice as best I could. On the days that I have used the readings, the silence and prayer, I have felt more grounded and less anxious. I have felt more in touch with Sophia, and less in need of more anxiety provoking information. In turn, this practice allowed me to lead that young mothers’ group in a direction of Sophia wisdom, away from the clamor of the anxious daily news cycle. We can make the space for Sophia, God’s wisdom, through our regular spiritual practices whatever they might be. A run or walk in the quiet of the morning or the evening; a gentle, repetitive craft like knitting or sewing … practices are often done in solitude. The challenge, though, is to discover Sophia Wisdom in the community of faith, the church. In her study of Sophia, Joyce Rupp concludes that “There are striking parallels between the attributes of Sophia and the qualities of Jesus. There is much about Jesus that is like Sophia.”Rupp goes on “By her very nature Sophia is relational, present in the world, interacting among people and ordinary human lives.” The Rev. Dr. J. Philip Newell, minister in the Church of Scotland and celebrated author expresses this in a prayer for wisdom: “That truth has been inscribed into my heart and into the heart of every human being, there to be read and reverenced, thanks be to you O God.” [3] I am convinced that this is the intent of our congregational governance, to listen for God’s wisdom – Sophia – in the collective heart of the gathered community. Sadly, in many local churches, the discernment of wisdom in the collective heart has been lost. In these places, vocal members simply assert their opinions. The loudest and most dominant voices usually prevail. This is one way that anxiety creeps in and takes over conversations in church communities. I’ve heard some concern about the conversation on the display of the flag in the sanctuary we’ll be having today. Do not fear, though. We can listen to Sophia’s cry, for she is waiting to become have her voice heard in this community. If we seek out Sophia, and listen for her in the hearts of this congregation today, we will have heard her cry. And so may we pray, in the words of J. Philip Newell’s prayer for wisdom: “That truth has been inscribed into my heart and into the heart of every human being, there to be read and reverenced, thanks be to you O God. That there are ways of seeing and sensitivities of knowing hidden deep in the palace of the soul, waiting to be discovered ready to be set free, thanks be to you. Open my senses to wisdom’s inner promptings that I may give voice to what I hear in my soul and be changed for the healing of the world, that I may listen for truth in every living soul and be changed for the wellbeing of the world.” May all God’s people say, Amen. [1]https://www.uscatholic.org/church/scripture-and-theology/2008/07/desperately-seeking-sophia [2]Robert J. Wicks, Leading a Gentle and Passionate Life, (Paulist Press, Mahwah NJ, 1998) [3]J. Philip Newell.Sounds of the Eternal: Meditative Chants and Prayers, Audio CD, 2006 Encountering Mercy at the Borderlands Preached on September 9th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Focus Scripture: Mark 7:24-37 Today we take a trip, in our minds, to the borderlands. Here we find desperate mothers and fathers seeking healing and safety for their children. We also find Jesus, grappling with the extent of his ministry, and what are the borders of God’s kingdom. For ourselves and for Jesus the borderland is a place of discomfort and struggle. It is also the place where we meet God’s unfathomable grief and mercy for all God’s children. The PBS Frontline documentary, “Separated: Children at the Border” introduces us to Esmerelda Rodriguez. Esmerelda journeys north, from Honduras, through Guatemala, to Mexico with her three daughters. She plans throw herself on the mercy of border patrol agents when she reaches the USA. She wants to ask for asylum. Her oldest child, just a young teenager, has been a witness to the murder of her godmother. The gang members who committed the act have threatened to kill the entire family if they do not leave the country. The child is traumatized by what she has seen. Her mom brought her to a psychologist, but nothing can stop her nightmares. The journey to the border is a nightmare in itself. The family travels through Central America’s violent northern triangle in beat up vans. They are packed in – sweating and parched - with other migrants. They are poor. They cannot afford plane tickets or a safe vehicle. When they reach Mexico they take their chance on “the Beast” – a freight train, where migrants ride on top. Gangs patrol these “passengers.” There are thefts, rapes and murders on top of that train. In recent years Border agents have reported floods of children and teenagers crossing the US southern border from Central American countries. The owner of a ranch regularly finds bodies of those who have died in the heat of the desert. He has electrified the fence that contains his ranch and runs his own militia, to help with border patrol. He tells the PBS interviewer “I’m black and white, I’m not gray – they’ve broken our laws by coming into the country illegally. We cannot take care of the whole world.” This past spring for a period of about 2 months our government adopted a policy of separating children from their parents at the southern border. Somewhere from 2,000 to 3,000 children were taken away from their accompanying parent and held in pens and cells “pending processing.” When the processing came around, children as young as 1 year old were brought to court and expected to answer questions about their immigration status. Some did not even know their own name or country of origin. The policy did not last long – the nation’s outrage was heard. But the repercussions will last for years. The Militias remain resolute, but there are others who have heard the cry of the children. Pro-bono attorneys , nuns, and other volunteers, have been working to reunite families. Some parents had already been deported without their children. Others were being held in detention far away. Donors have posted bail for parents held in detention. Still hundreds of children remain separated. In a world that does not live up to God’s will for peace among all people, borders and border protection are necessary. Neither we, nor our government created the situation in Central America. Let us pray for our elected officials, as they try to create a reasonable immigration policy, and may we also pray that children will never again be forcibly separated from the parents who are trying to protect them. There is infinite wideness in God’s grief at this tragic situation and God’s mercy for all God’s children. So, may there also be a wideness in our human grief and mercy. Our gospel passage for today tells of a time when Jesus’ mercy was challenged by a mother’s love. And this takes place near the border of his land. Jesus has traveled to the border region far north of Jerusalem. He is in Gentile territory. The people of this place have not been welcoming to Jews in the past. Gentile landowners exploit Jewish tenants and Jewish customs are not observed. Jesus seems to have come to this unfriendly place to seek asylum from King Herod. Jesus and his disciples are exhausted from their recent tour of Israelite villages. They have healed the sick in so many places and now Jesus wants to lie low. Perhaps he assumes that since he is outside of Jewish territory he will not be bothered. And yet Mark, the gospel writer says, he could not escape notice. The Syrophoenician woman is most definitely not of Jewish descent. She is of a different culture and a different ethnicity. But she is a desperate mother of a sick child and she has heard that Jesus can heal this kind of sickness. That is all she needs to know as she falls on her knees at Jesus’ feet and begs him to have mercy. This is not Jesus’ finest hour. He sounds closed minded and mean spirited: “let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The people of Israel are the children he assumes he has come to serve. The Gentile woman and her child are on the outside of that boundary. He refers to them as dogs. Even though dogs are beloved to most of us, we know an insult when we hear it. The woman does not retreat silently after his rejection. Instead, she is bold, standing her ground. She even plays with his words, as she replies “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Jesus is taken aback by her reply. He does an about-turn. “For saying that you may go-the demon has left your daughter.” Immediately the child is healed. Jesus has gone from closed-minded “charity begins at home” to opening up to the wideness of God’s grief and mercy. Before his meeting with the Syrophoenician woman he believed his ministry was limited to the people of Israel. After this encounter he understands that God’s kingdom extends to all the world. God’s loving kindness, God’s grief and God’s mercy are for all people. In my final year in seminary I took the reading-heavy Ethics class I had been avoiding. This was an online class, and students were assigned to discussion groups to reflect on each week’s readings. My discussion group included a man named William, a member of an African Methodist Episcopal Church in Boston. William was slight in his build and rather quiet. I remembered from another class that he possessed an incredible knowledge of the Bible. His perspectives were intelligent, his thought process was meticulous. I knew he would keep me on my toes. Mostly we got along well in our online conversations. William would share his perspective of a black American Christian navigating a white world. It was not always comfortable reading for me. Even though I was working from the comfort of my own home, my interactions with William brought me to the border lands between black and white America. During the course of the semester, a Middle School student from my community and church died from cancer. I knew the family and the child, who bravely had battled the disease for some time. I was devastated, along with our entire small town. I felt unable to tackle the Ethics class questions that week without referring to the young girl who had passed away. I shared my feelings with my group and William gently commiserated. But then he shared with me the number of times that he had attended funerals for the children of his close friends at church and in his community. These young people had died from disease, gun violence, and overdoses. To say that there were ten deaths in his community for every one in mine is probably an underestimate. I simply could not imagine multiplying my feelings of grief for the one child by 10. My church was ministering to the family and the community in the midst of the loss. My pastor told me that he imagined the grief the community like waves of the ocean crashing onto the shore. Looking back, I imagine God’s grief and God’s mercy at the loss of each child of the African American community and each child separated at the border like another ocean crashing onto the shore. 1000’s of oceans of grief and mercy – God’s grief and God’s mercy – unfathomable to you and me. We learn just a little of this great grief and mercy, if we travel to the borderlands. Perhaps your borderland is a state of mind … a courageous place of prayer … a willingness to have a conversation with someone who thinks differently than you do … a venture into the territory of sobriety … a new connection with someone who looks different, worships differently or loves differently from ourselves. Whether we travel physically or in our minds, today here is an invitation to the borderlands. We could stay within our own territory where it is safer. But, wouldn’t you rather go? Wouldn’t you rather grow? |
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