Surrender All Preached on September 22nd 2019 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 16:1-13 In Step 3 we make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand God … in other words we surrender. This week we read from the next chapter in the gospel of Luke. In today’s passage we heard Jesus tell the story of a shrewd manager. The manager is in trouble with his boss. An employee like the manager in First Century Palestine is more of a servant or a slave. His boss is known as his “master.” When the boss hears that the employee is mismanaging his property, the manager has no recourse. We don’t know whether he is guilty of squandering his boss’s wealth. We do know he is scared. He has no other way of making a livelihood. If he is fired he will probably have to beg for his living. There is no way another property owner will take him on. The manager comes up with a scheme. He goes to his boss’s debtors and offers them a deal. If they owe 100, lets make it 80 or even 50. He’s buying some currency with these people. Writer Diana Butler Bass describes this system of gifting and gratitude, called quid pro quo. This literally means “something for something.” She says … “[it] was … used as a means of patronage, power, and control: ‘I do something for you, so that you must do something for me.’ A gift incurred a debt, and the recipient owed a response—an act of gratitude—in return.” [1] This works for the manager, in that it will give him an entrance into the homes of the clients. It is his insurance policy if he is thrown out by his boss. Surprisingly, the boss is pleased with the scheme. He is proud of his shrewd manager. Perhaps this scheme brings in owed wealth more quickly than before. Or perhaps the boss now feels he can call in favors from his clients. Don’t you think this is a strange story for Jesus to tell? There is not much that is good or faithful in it. The manager and boss act entirely in character and in the culture of the time. Things get even stranger as Jesus appears to recommend the behavior of the manager too. He says to the disciples “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” However, there is one subtlety in this statement that we would miss in many of the English translations of this gospel. In the telling of this story, Jesus says the manager acts so that people will welcome him into their homes (or houses). But when Jesus comments on the story, advising the disciples, he says that when the wealth is gone they may be welcomed into the eternal … tents. The eternal tent or tabernacle is understood to be the dwelling place of God. And we are reminded that God is not to be found in earthly wealth, or houses built by human hands. God is not so limited, or so settled. God’s realm is other than this. And so, Jesus seems to be saying: this may be a shrewd manager. He has saved his skin and established good will with the clients. But what has he done to gain entrance into the eternal tents of God? This remains to be seen. Who does he truly serve? And so Jesus goes on to conclude that we cannot serve both God and material wealth. Sometimes we get confused. All things come from God: the environment, the food we eat, the homes we live in, the money we make. Alcohol comes from grape and grain, opiates from poppies, even opioids that are synthesized in the lab come from the created universe. There is nothing in our world that has not come from God’s creation. If God is God, all else is created. And the created world is a gift. There is no real separation between God and what Jesus calls Mammon. The problem arises when we begin to worship what is created, instead of who is creating it. The problem arises when we seek security in the temporary homes of those who owe us favors. And this brings us to our addictions and the addictive behaviors we all own. Richard Rohr writes: “Material satisfactions, while surely not bad, have a tendency to become addictive … instead of making you whole, they repeatedly remind you of how incomplete, needy, and empty you are. As alcoholics often say, your ‘addiction makes you need more and more of what is not working.’” [2] We have begun working through the 12 step program of spirituality in Richard Rohr’s book “Breathing Under Water.” Today we are on step 3 and, as I said, today’s step is about surrender. Rohr says that surrender is not “giving up” but “giving to.” It is reminding ourselves who is God. Not the gift but the giver. Surrender to God … may sound scary, yet it leads to joy. It leads to a full appreciation of God’s mercy and grace. It leads to dwelling in the eternal tents of God. Rohr quotes St Francis, who said “When the heart is pure, ‘Love responds to Love alone’ and has little to do with duty, obligation, requirement …” God’s love and mercy has nothing to do with quid pro quo … Rohr says “it is easy to surrender when you know that nothing but Love and Mercy is on the other side.” [3] But still we resist, whether we have a chemical addiction or another addictive behavior. We hold onto the illusion of being in control. And I wonder why. Some people I meet tell me that they practice spirituality, but struggle with belief. I meet them here in church and many of the places I go in the community. Most recently one young man told me that this was his struggle. Really, I think these are the people who are most likely on a true spiritual path toward surrender. The obstacle is simple and they have recognized it. It is a matter of their head and their reason getting in the way. A voice tells them that “this is too good to be true. There is no God of love and mercy.” I usually say “don’t worry about it” God doesn’t need your belief. Keep doing what works, eventually the need for belief will melt away. You will surrender. These are the easy ones. Other people I meet have a much more difficult obstacle. They are also both inside the church and outside. They are sure they know who God is … and they want no part of surrendering. They are locked in a battle of wills. They may think that God wants them to attend church … but they stay away until guilt gets the better of them. Or they think that God is after all their money and they don’t want to give. Or they think that God wants to get inside their heads, and they want to keep God out. The parables and teachings of Jesus offend them. They do not want to relinquish control over their lives. And, isn’t it true, that we here today are all a little bit like this? We conjure images of a demanding, control freak God. In the distant memories of childhood, I swing my legs from the pew in my small village Methodist chapel of 1960’s England. The message from the great high pulpit resounds: “God wants YOU! … And God wants your all.” At that time, my understanding of giving one’s all to God meant becoming a missionary. And my understanding of mission was an expedition to preach the gospel to the far away so-called “heathen nations.” I heard about these places in the old hymns we sang. The implication was that God would call me to give up on all my attachments, hopes and dreams and to substitute an alien and disturbing future. No wonder I resisted. And over the years, I have often thought of surrender as meaning that God will drag me kicking and screaming into submission, like a 2 year old in a tantrum. Life experiences, mentors and further study of the scriptures as well as books like “Breathing Under Water”, have changed my understanding. Yes, God sometimes calls us out of our comfort to metaphorical “distant lands.” God does want our all, our whole lives. And yet, to surrender to God looks more like giving ourselves over to a winsome beloved than a control freak. Resistance comes from fears we have accumulated over the course of our lives. We learn to fear when we are let down or hurt by those we have loved before. When the winsome beloved comes along, we convince ourselves that we don’t deserve them and they will find out soon enough. We ask how will we survive when that person leaves or abandons us? Self-loathing kicks in. It is our protective mechanism and we’d rather use it than believe ourselves to be loved without condition. The good news is that if we surrender to the winsome lover that is God, we will become equipped to face the truth without fear or denial. In our lives this might mean seeking help for something that is causing our health to suffer … a chemical addiction, a destructive relationship, or past trauma that we cannot get beyond. In our culture, this might mean listening to the young people who are crying out for the generation in power to take climate change seriously. In our church, this might mean questioning our thinking of how we are church and the way we sometimes channel our energies and resources into a temporary house rather than the eternal tabernacle. No, God’s gifts are not given “quid pro quo.” We do not owe God. We simply deny ourselves God’s overwhelming grace, when we act as though we do. And so may we surrender all and let God be God, because we are not. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] Bass, Diana Butler. Grateful (p. 10). HarperOne. Kindle Edition. [2] Rohr, Richard. The Universal Christ (p. 87). The Crown Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. [3] Rohr, Richard. Breathing Under Water : Spirituality and the Twelve Steps (p. 28). Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.
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“Lost and Found” Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On September 15th, 2019 Scripture: Luke 15:1-10 This morning we continued to read from the gospel of Luke, picking up the story right after last week’s passage. And today we also begin step 2 of our 12 step sermon series, based on Richard Rohr’s book “Breathing Under Water.” In the language of the 12-step program step 2 reads “[We] came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” In our gospel story, great crowds are following Jesus through the land. He is getting closer to Jerusalem, and the cross. The religious people are annoyed. They grumble among themselves, because Jesus is breaking the rules of polite religious society. He welcomes the sinners and the tax collectors, he eats with them, and, to add insult to injury, he has a good time. This bugs the religious leaders. And so Jesus tells them two stories that highlight the joy experienced when those who are lost are restored to God’s community. The first story is about a shepherd who has lost one of his sheep. He has a herd of 100. When one sheep is lost he leaves the other 99 to search for the frightened lamb. He finds it in the thicket, panicked and silent so as not to attract the attention of predators. The shepherd is so joyful he has found the lamb he throws a party for his friends and neighbors to celebrate with him. The second story is about a woman who has lost one of her precious 10 silver coins. You can tell by the way she reacts that she is panicked. Did she drop it in the market place? Was it stolen from her pocket or purse? How could she be so careless? She has 9 more coins, but still this one coin is so precious to her. She needs the lost coin to restore the whole ten she has been saving for years. The woman turns the house upside down, giving it a long overdue deep cleaning. She sweeps every inch of her small home, every speck of dust is turned over. Every dark corner is illuminated by her lamp. Finally she finds the coin and lets out a deep sigh of relief. She is filled with joy, and calls in her friends and neighbors … this is cause for rejoicing. What she thought was lost is found. Both the shepherd and the woman experience such joy and relief at finding what they had lost. Most of all, their joy is about restoring the lost lamb and the lost coin to the whole. Jesus summarizes by telling the religious leaders, God is just like the shepherd and the woman. God rejoices over and throws a party for those who come home to God, where they belong. In the light of these stories, we return to Step 2 of the 12 Steps we are considering in this sermon series: “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Here in church, we might substitute some of the language. Perhaps our version might read: “When we are found, when we turn toward God, we are restored to the community of the church.” As Richard Rohr writes (in chapter 2): “The surrender of faith does not happen in one moment but is an extended journey, a trust walk, a gradual letting go, unlearning, and handing over.” [1] There may be parts of ourselves that remain hidden for years. Still our journey leads us to be found and restored as a whole. When Mary and I talked about the service this week, Mary provided me with insights into the 12 step program and what it has meant for her. She told me of the way in which desperation led her to her group, and the joy she experiences in walking the 12 step way and surrendering to God. You can see the joy in her eyes when she smiles. Mary told me that she supposed that I have also experienced my own moments of desperation. She is not wrong. Although I have not gone to a 12 step program, I have experienced some despair. And turning over to God has sometimes been that slow, painful process that characterizes us religious folk! One turning event has been in my mind this week. It’s probably been in your mind too, as we observed the 18th anniversary of September 11th 2001. 9/11 touched my community of the time in a particular way. I belonged to a circle of mothers, in our suburban town. We had mostly come together through our UCC church, and had begun to tentatively explore our faith together. We were mostly married with young children. Our spouses were in the busy early stages of their careers: doing well, but on the way. They traveled frequently to client meetings, conferences and the like. That morning my husband, like many others, had flown out of Logan Airport down to Newark Airport for a meeting. As soon as he heard about the attack on the twin towers he called a car rental company made a reservation. As he made his lonely way back to Massachusetts that evening he witnessed the plumes of smoke over Manhattan. We were so grateful to come through 9/11 with our family in tact. And all our immediate friends were safe too. We grieved for those who had not been so fortunate. Simon’s car was impounded at the airport for a few days. My parents who were visiting at the time could not fly home to the UK as scheduled. They left, stoic as always, on one of the first flights out of Logan after the attack. That was a difficult “good bye” for me. We were all safe and well, and I knew I should be grateful. But, of course, our family could not escape the anxiety of the times. In the following year Simon continued to travel to Europe at least once per month. His mom had died the previous year and so he generally included a visit to his father who was sick and lonely. I would track his flights on the airline’s website, sometimes I’d panic for a moment when the connection dropped and the plane seemed to stall over the ocean. For the following year our son had difficulty sleeping, and suffered anxiety when we left him and his sisters in the care of a sitter. I felt like the glue of the family, holding us together in some shape or form. But I wasn’t doing so well. I’d come into church each week, and when it came time for our silent prayers of confession, I’d tear up. I was so often frustrated with my husband and children. I didn’t understand it. Why did this family, the answer to my hopes and dreams, seem like a burden? Why was I so impatient, so desperate for some time for me … so exhausted at trying to hold everything together? “God forgive me.” I’d sigh. Finally the penny dropped … my confession needed to become a prayer for healing. I couldn’t simply “try not to” do those behaviors I didn’t like. I needed help, and so I began to pray for it. Gradually I discovered the spiritual resources to shine a light into those corners of complaint. I learned to honor my needs, as a mother and a child of God. I began to seek out ways to communicate better in relationships and to care for myself so that I could care for others. You might say I was “restored to sanity.” The joy of restoration has led me to some wonderful places of community. One occasion, I remember, it led me to take my children to worship with our church’s sister African Methodist Episcopal church in the city. It was Maundy Thursday evening and we washed feet together with our African American siblings. The service ran late and my son got upset that he would not be able to fall asleep that night. So, I brought him to the woman I had been partnered with and she helped us to pray. As we drove home to the suburbs after the service he looked out of the car window and watched the beautiful full moon. The experience settled him right down and he was able to sleep that night. You might say we were “restored to sanity.” And so, what is it that you need restoration from? What is it you are hiding? Are you one of the religious folk, who hide in your strict religion, fearful of hidden things being revealed? Or perhaps you bury things in the busy-ness of daily life, keeping yourself too well occupied to think and pray. Or are you someone who knows what it is to turn to God in desperation? Have you turned your life over to the way of Jesus and had your dark corners illuminated and swept? Is this something you would be willing to share one day with the congregation, to encourage all of us on our spiritual journeys? This week I heard about a series of discussions organized in Milton by interfaith clergy and community leaders. It’s called “Courageous Conversations.” These are conversations that bring together people across racial divides to talk about issues of racism in our culture today. They sweep the corners clean, opening up and talking to one another about their experiences. Some have criticized this movement as not “doing anything.” Yet the leader told me, having people open up and talk face-to-face has transformed lives. It has begun to restore the wider community. Sometimes “doing something” saves us from confronting the needs and fears in the dark recesses of our hearts and minds. Sometimes, for God to find us and restore us, we have to stop the doing and allow ourselves to be found. This is what I hope for our upcoming discussion series: on “The Reality: Where We are Now and Options for the Future.” For us, as a church, to pause for a moment in the doing of our business and ask God to illuminate the dark corners, to sweep away the dust on what is hidden; for us to face the future with God’s clarity and light. Are you ready to be found, in the deepest, darkest recesses of your heart? I hope so because it will lead to joy and the restoration of community. Let all God’s people say … Amen [1] Rohr, Richard. Breathing Under Water : Spirituality and the Twelve Steps (p. 8). Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition. Letting Go Preached on September 8th, 2019 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 14:25-33 Even though I am no longer school age, these early fall days always feel like “back to school” for me. I wonder if you feel the same way too. Today, here in church, as we listen to the gospel reading we may find ourselves in a “back to school” frame of mind. Jesus is in full-on teaching mode. This is not an intro-level course. If you came into church today without having heard or read the earlier parts of Luke’s gospel, I’m afraid you are being thrown in the deep end. This is advanced level discipleship teaching. There are pre-requisites for this course. The gospel writer, Luke, is assuming that you have been along for the healing of the sick and the casting out of demons; for the parables; for the lifting up of the poor, the women and the outcasts. And for the glorious tales of the kingdom to come, the great banquet at which all God’s people are welcome. So far in the gospel story, Jesus’ call to new followers has not mentioned a cost. The disciples have multiplied to seventy missionaries, who have been sent out by pairs into the local towns. They have reached the multitudes with their teaching. Thousands gather around Jesus. They can’t get enough of him. But now it is time to find out what the followers are really made of. It’s time to teach them that following Jesus comes with a cost. And so he delivers one of the most challenging messages of the gospel: Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters - yes, even one's own self! - can't be my disciple. (Luke 14:26, The Message) Jesus cautions the enthusiastic crowd to “count the cost” of following him. This includes letting go of all attachments: even to family members, even to all their possessions, even their attachments to their very own selves. We might begin to think that this is a strange new egotistical Jesus. He is making some serious demands on the disciples. We generally associate leaders who make these sorts of demands with modern-day cult leaders like Jim Jones. In 1978 Jones convinced 900 of his followers to take cyanide-laced punch and die. If today’s teaching was the first thing we heard about Jesus, perhaps we would imagine him as an egotistical cult leader. Yet, we have heard how Jesus has gone about the countryside, serving the poor, healing the sick and lifting up the broken hearted. How can we possibly see him in this light? Instead, we have to look a little more deeply into where this teaching coming from. Perhaps it has more to do with our own egos than his. In the first chapter of the book “Breathing Underwater” Richard Rohr says: “What ego hates more then anything else in the world is to change - even when the present situation isn’t working or is horrible.” [1] We know that Jesus was all about change, in order to bring about God’s great vision for the world, that great banquet of inclusion. Is this us? Are we the ones who hate for the world to change, even when the present situation is not working? Rohr also says: “Ego hates to admit powerlessness over a situation …” and yet Jesus admitted utter powerlessness under the Roman Empire as he was taken to the cross and crucified. [2] And yet, is this us? Do we hate to admit powerlessness over the situations in our lives? And Rohr also says: “The ego defines itself by its revulsions and attachments …” and yet Jesus let go of all attachments, turning toward the cross to bring life to the world. [3] On the other hand, we find it so difficult to let go of our attachments and revulsions. Rohr goes on to say: “Mature spirituality is all about letting go” both of what we love and what we hate. Rohr says “Your ego is always attached to mere externals … it has no inner substance itself … [whereas] The soul does not attach and it does not hate; it desires and loves and lets go.” We all have an ego of course and it is better to have a healthy ego. Our ego knows who we are, and helps us differentiate from others, creating effective boundaries. People with fragile egos need others to validate them, they cannot handle criticism or rejection - they do not know who they are apart from the others they depend upon. What we need to learn, as we grow up, is to keep our egos in the right place. We need to master our egos rather than allowing our egos to rule us. This is our goal, in letting go of our attachments. We do not become less loving when we let go of family and loved ones and our other attachments. We learn to love in a self-differentiated way. But if we are attached so strongly to a substance or a habit, to a friendship, to a group or a way of doing things, that we cannot let go, that attachment becomes an addiction. And we are powerless over our addictions. In the Breathing Under Water Companion Journal, Rohr says: We are all spiritually powerless … not just those [who are] physically addicted to a substance. Alcoholics’ powerlessness is visible for all to see. The rest of us disguise it in different ways, and overcompensate for our hidden addictions and attachments … [4] This week I sat with my spiritual director and made a confession: I am attached to being successful. I really want to be successful: a successful pastor, a successful parent … successful in all I do! Until this week I had not spoken out loud about this attachment, I had kept it hidden. Ironically as I thought about letting go, I descended into a rabbit hole - I became attached to being successful in letting go of being successful! You may like the idea of having a pastor who is committed to being successful. This may seem like a positive quality, especially if my definition of success means revitalization of the church. You may want to buy into this attachment. But ultimately it will not serve any of us well. I have to admit that I am powerless: over my attachment to success and the revitalization of this church. I do not have the ability to reach into the hearts of our neighbors and stir them to get out of bed on Sunday mornings and come to worship. I do not have the ability to change the busyness of our culture or the habits that lead people to over-commit and burn out. Nor do I have control over you, the congregation. I can’t impose my ideas for change on you if that is not what you want. And that is the way things ought to be. The direction and the decisions of this church belong to the congregation. All I can do is to try lead us all in Jesus’ teaching for our time and place. I can encourage us to let go of our attachments to particular goals and outcomes and to listen to the desires of God for us and for our church. This is something that we will practice in the coming months during our discussions on “The Reality of Where We are Now and Options for the Future.” And so I invite you to consider for a moment: what are you attached to in your life? Is it a substance you use to numb yourself when life becomes too much a pint of ice cream at bed time after a co-worker made you feel small … or draining the bottle of wine in the fridge after a stressful commute. Do you feel powerless to resist and deal with those stresses in more healthful ways. Or is it a so-called friendship that is not working? A one-way relationship: someone who receives but does not give. Are you short- changing your soul, because you feel trapped by this person? Or do you feed the imbalance because you couldn’t imagine life without them? We humans are not only attached and deny our powerless on an individual level. We are also addicted and deny our powerlessness on a communal level. We are powerless to stop an active shooter in a place of worship, or in a shopping mall, or in a school in these first days of the school year. This sense of powerlessness is so frightening, that we come up with myths to convince ourselves we can control the situation. We say that a good guy with a gun can stop a bad guy with a gun. We forget that we cannot tell a good person from a bad person by looking at them. We forget that a seemingly good person can become a violent person overnight under certain circumstances. And still, there is the collective power to stop the epidemic of mass shootings in our culture today. This could happen if we citizens admitted our powerlessness and let go of our attachments to our arguments, our weapons, our traditions … and our insistence on “being right.” Once we are ready let go of our political ideals and differences and sit down at the table together: then we will discover the power the end this epidemic of violence. …………… Church, today we have begun the first step of our 12 steps to freer lives with God. We have considered Jesus’ teaching on letting go in the light of these steps. Those who have done this first step in Alcoholics Anonymous or another 12-step program say “We admitted we were powerless over [our attachments]– that our lives had become unmanageable.” I invite you to take away with you the image of the hand letting go of the rope that is being pulled away. The owner of the hand is powerless to resist. The rope is being pulled by an irresistible force. If the hand continues to hold on, it will become cut and burned by the rope. But if the owner of the hand admits their powerlessness and lets go, they will be free. Wollaston Congregational Church, we are invited to count the cost and to become advanced level students and followers of Jesus. May we all have the courage to let go. May all God’s people say, Amen. [1] Richard Rohr, Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, (Franciscan Media, Cincinnati OH, 2011), 6 [2] Ibid. [3] Ibid., 5 [4] Richard Rohr, Breathing Under Water Companion Journal: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, (Franciscan Media, Cincinnati OH, 2015), 2 |
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