Courage for Such a Time as This Preached on Sunday, September 26th 2021 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22 In these early weeks of fall, just as the secular summer holidays end, the Jewish holidays begin. Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah, all fall in September. Today we heard an excerpt from the biblical story of Esther, that is the focus of the Jewish holiday called Purim. Purim is not a fall holiday, it’s observed before Passover, late winter/early spring. Next year Purim will fall on March 16th and 17th. But the story of Esther only features once in the Revised Common Lectionary: the three year cycle of scripture readings that we follow. As Esther will not reappear for another three years, I think we should pay attention today. Esther is one of the books of the Bible that falls into the category of writings or wisdom literature. Unlike our previous two weeks’ texts, Esther does not describe the various qualities of God’s wisdom. This scripture has very little to do with those soft qualities of tenderness and gentleness. No, Esther is a hard story. It’s a story of courage in the midst of oppression and the threat of genocide. If Esther demonstrates wisdom, it’s the wisdom Jesus talks about in Matthew’s gospel, when he sends the disciples out like sheep among wolves. He says to them “be as wise as serpents and as innocent as doves.” This is smart wisdom, not naïve, it’s the kind of wisdom that requires courage. Esther and her uncle and guardian Mordecai are Jewish. They are descended from the Israelites who were exiled to Babylon in 586 BCE. They live in Susa, the capital city of the Persian Empire, some time between 486 and 465 BCE. The King at that time is Xerxes, a petty, petulant, egotistical ruler. It appears that Esther and Mordecai live in close proximity to the palace. Mordecai is a devout Jew, but he is also mindful of power and influence, wise enough to protect himself and his niece, and later his whole people. Mordecai advises Esther to disguise her Jewishness. The outcome is a mixed bag: she avoids stigmatism and oppression, but instead she finds herself in a pool of young girls rounded up to become a part of Xerxes’ harem. Xerxes has banished his own beautiful wife, Vashti, because she refused to parade her beauty at a banquet where Xerxes hosted many dignitaries. Xerxes was embarrassed by his wife’s refusal and sent her away. Now he is on the lookout for a new wife. Over the course of a whole year, the virgins are prepped in the harem which is guarded by eunuchs. These are men who were enslaved and brutally dismembered as young boys. One virgin from the harem is brought to the King each night for him to determine who will be his next queen. Esther succeeds in pleasing King Xerxes to the extent that she is chosen. Now, she is in a tenuous position. She is very close to power and also at the mercy of Xerxes’ fragile ego and temper. Mordecai is wise, like Esther, and keeps his ears open for opportunities to gain leverage. He overhears some of the eunuchs talking about a conspiracy to murder King Xerxes and so he relays this information via Esther. Now Xerxes is in debt to Mordecai. Fortunately this incident is logged in the royal records, because Xerxes’ memory is poor. Now, there is a second villain in the story who is even worse than Xerxes. Haman is Xerxes’ advisor and henchman. He has a fragile ego too, and becomes enraged because Mordecai, a faithful Jew, will not bow down to him. Mordecai only bows down to the God of Israel. Haman decides it is beneath him to punish Mordecai alone, and so he conspires to destroy the whole Jewish people. He persuades King Xerxes to issue a decree to annihilate all the Jewish people in the kingdom. It is a genocide, a pogrom. Xerxes is oblivious to the fact that his own wife is Jewish. Mordecai is mortified when he hears about this plan. He rushes to action, appealing 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 “perhaps” 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. She summons the courage to approach the throne. The king spares her life and Esther invites both Haman and Xerxes to a series of banquets. At the first banquet Esther plies the two men 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, though, Xerxes is unable to sleep and so he goes to review the royal records. He realizes that he never rewarded Mordecai for his loyalty, and so the king plans a royal parade in Mordecai’s honor. Xerxes calls on Haman to put together this honorable parade. Haman is outraged, he had thought the parade was going to be for himself. At the second banquet, Xerxes asks Esther what he can do for her. She asks that he will spare her life, and the lives of her people from someone who is planning their annihilation. “Who is this person?” Xerxes demands. Esther points to Haman, the villain: “An adversary and enemy! This vile Haman!” The story ends happily for the Jewish people of Susa, but not so much for Haman and his family. They are executed one by one on the gallows he had set up for Mordecai. In today’s world, we probably would not think of Esther as a model religious woman. She hides her Jewish identity. She plays Xerxes’ game. She uses sexuality and beauty to manipulate him for the benefit of herself and her people. The outcome guarantees the survival of her people, but do the ends justify the means? Was Mordecai correct: had Esther come to royal dignity “for such a time as this”? Was God’s hand in Esther’s story, a story that never once mentions God? Even though Esther’s story comes from a completely different time and place, have we found ourselves in similar situations? Have we found ourselves in circumstances where we are able to act for the hand of God, even though we never planned for that to happen? A few years ago, I wrote an essay for a seminary class entitled my “Vocational Autobiography.” This writing tracks my life, including the role models, principles and influences that make up my ethical decision making. Writing the essay prompted me to notice that there have been times in my life when I had not used any kind of ethical decision, so much as I have “played the game.” I recalled that my training in engineering prepared me to be diligent in my work because lives might depend upon it. But there was an inconsistency. I tolerated a great deal of unethical behavior in the workplace. When I began work in the early 1980’s sexual harassment was very present in the workplace, even though it was not often acknowledged. Older male engineers let me know that being touched inappropriately and being subject to inappropriate talk was something I would have to get used to if I wanted to work in a “man’s world.” I managed this by being “a good sport,” priding myself in dodging the worst of it and not making a fuss. Essentially I “played the game.” When I came to the United States, my male colleagues often traveled to Japan and South Korea for technical support and sales. On these trips they were entertained, with nights out drinking and visits to “night clubs”. When the Asian contacts came to visit us in the US, the guys decided to reciprocate by taking the guests to a local gentlemen’s club. Female employees were excluded, of course. And these activities were tacitly approved by the management. I was disturbed by all this behavior, but wasn’t sure what to do about it. I saw my role as a young employee was to “play the game.” Sometime later a new hire, Anne, was more outspoken. When she learned about this behavior she objected and I agreed with her. My co-workers seemed puzzled. If I felt the same way, why hadn’t I spoken up sooner? Reflecting back, I realized that my tolerance and silence over the workplace issues may have enabled the abuse of women and others who did not have my voice. I was not as powerless as I thought. I was respected for my work by my managers. They would have listened to me. If I had spoken up, the abuse of female employees might have been avoided. I may have also educated the guys who were oblivious to the offense they were causing. With the benefit and hindsight and experience, my senses have been attuned to recognize sexist and predatory behavior. It is often disguised as playfulness. Those who are on the receiving end are supposed to “be a good sport” and not take offense. In one church where I worked, I was greeted regularly by one member of the congregation with reference my appearance: As I was so short why didn’t I wear heels? Had I lost weight recently? Could I please clip my hair back (with a guiding hand to demonstrate) because it fell on my face when I was preaching? Others brushed this off as idiosyncratic behavior. But I recognized it as something else. It was thinly disguised predatory behavior. Once I’d established that the person was cognitively intact, I called them out. This was not only for my own sake, but for concern that other less powerful attendees may also be targeted. Perhaps in your life, you have played the game in your working lives in your social circle in your extended family in your school or on you team. We may have tolerated racism, ageism, homophobia, xenophobia and perhaps now is not is the time to speak up. But, perhaps, as Mordecai told Esther we have come to this position for such a time as this. Yes, wisdom requires tenderness and gentleness, but it also requires courage. Courage, my friends, for such a time as this. May all God’s people say, Amen
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Gentleness Born of Wisdom Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church on September 19th 2021 Scriptures: James 3:13 - 4:3, 7-8a and Mark 9:30-37 James 3:13 Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. This week we continue our fall sermon series on God’s Wisdom. And today, I’m deviating a little bit, and instead of reflecting on a passage from the Wisdom texts of the Old Testament I’m choosing the Epistle, or letter from the New Testament. This morning we read from James’s letter to the early church. Until today, I have never reflected on this letter in a sermon. The reason is that this epistle has the reputation of being a bit righteous and a bit “preachy.” James’s letter often reads like “good advice” for leading a Christian life, like “take your medicine” or “eat your peas”, good for you but, well … dull. However, the subject of today’s passage, on God’s wisdom versus the wisdom of the world, is far from dull and boring in James’s eyes. James is really concerned, even urgent, about getting his message across. He sees the wisdom of the surrounding culture, the world, as a real threat to the community of faith. James portrays earthly wisdom as “bitter envy and selfish ambition”, calling it “unspiritual and devilish.” He is urgent, calling the Christian community to live out God’s wisdom rather than earthly wisdom. The stakes are high for James. Will the church differentiate from the world, or are they going to allow themselves to be corrupted and swallowed up by the culture? And so James preaches a message of God’s wisdom: gentleness or humility is born of that wisdom. Gentleness is its fruit. Our gospel for this morning echoes similar themes, even though the word wisdom is not used. Jesus and the disciples are traveling the road, preaching, teaching and healing. As they walk from one village to another, Jesus picks up on the fact that there is an argument going on among the disciples. The group has just heard Jesus tell them that he will be betrayed, crucified, that he will die and then rise again three days later. The disciples do not understand Jesus and are afraid to ask him more about his meaning. And so they occupy themselves with a petty argument: who is the greatest among them? It’s a little one-upmanship, a competition. They think that Jesus cannot hear them. When he asks them what they were talking about they are ashamed to tell him. In the evening the group arrive at a village: babies are crying, goats are bleating, and fires are being stoked for the evening meal. Women and girls are busy preparing food and the men and boys are bringing in animals following a day’s work on farms and vineyards. The disciples and Jesus find a place to stay and food to eat. It is easy for Jesus to find a child, playing in the dust, fetching a pot of water for their family’s kitchen, or chasing a chicken. He brings the child into the circle and then holds her in his arms. The disciples can see that she is a living, breathing child with needs such as food, healthcare, clothing, housing and protection. He says to them “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all … whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” They are stunned. They’ve learned to ignore the children who scurry about the villages. Children are deeply loved by their families, but they have as little status as a servant in the culture. Until a child can pull their weigh and help feed their family, they are a part of the backdrop of village life. Whoever would think of welcoming them? Major Chris Brannigan of the British army is walking from Bar Harbor, Maine to North Carolina. He’s walking barefoot, carrying a pack so that he can camp along the way. He’s staying in the backyards and homes of volunteer strangers and, most often, town fire departments. Chris is calling his walk and his fundraiser “Hope for Hasti.” Chris is raising awareness and finances for his own 10 year old daughter, Hasti, and others who have rare life-limiting diseases.[1] Hasti has CDLS, Cornelia de Lange Syndrome, This is a “developmental disorder that affects many parts of the body. The severity of the condition and the associated signs and symptoms can vary widely, but may include distinctive facial characteristics, growth delays, intellectual disability and limb defects.” [2] Chris Brannigan is on an urgent mission. When Hasti reaches 12, her condition will deteriorate. Hasti struggles with numerous health issues, still she is able to communicate, learn and play. If she doesn’t obtain treatments and even a cure as she enters puberty she will become more withdrawn, regress, become mute. She and her family will lose the development they have fought hard to achieve. Hasti’s disease is considered rare, still there are many children who have the same condition. And there are a great many more who have conditions that are also designated rare. Chris estimates that one in 16 children in the UK have a “rare” disease. The designation “rare” means that pharmaceutical companies and the medical industry will not devote resources to these diseases. They prefer to channel their efforts into the conditions that affect a greater proportion of the population. It’s not difficult to see that this has a lot to do with making money for share-holders. This is the way our culture manages resources: through profit and loss. That’s the way capitalism has evolved. Most of us have no choice but to work with it. It is the ocean in which we swim and we have limited influence. But we can take the time to notice, and to differentiate. To heed James’s warning that the wisdom of God is quite different from the wisdom of the world. Gentleness and humility is born of the wisdom of God. We are urged, by James and by Jesus to welcome “the least of them” into our lives and our churches. And still, today, even as many children well provided for, there are children who get ignored and lost by in the culture. There are unaccompanied minors in our school systems; there are children who are bullied in school or learn differently and haven’t found a places to fit in; and, of course, almost all children have suffered over the past 18 months, through lack of in person teaching and stressed parents trying to juggle their own work, and limited and unpredictable school hours. Here are Wollaston Congregational Church, we rarely have the opportunity to welcome children into this worship space. In days past, this church would teach children Bible and music, coach children on the basketball court that was downstairs. The traditional role of the church is to train children to become the next generation of church. Generally that is done through educational programs. We have gotten into a catch-22 regarding children. We have no children to create education programs for, and without educational programs we do not attract families with children. But notice that Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples to train children, or coach children, or raise the next generation of church members. He tells them to welcome children. He tells them to welcome children with all their needs and wants, with all their rambunctious and energetic behaviors, with all their noisiness, or awkwardness, or anxieties, and their desperate need to find a place to fit. This church has provided a welcome and space for organizations that know how to extend that kind of welcome to children. Cub Scout Pack 42, who use space in our building are a diverse group of children, both girls and boys, exploring the opportunities scouting has to offer. Scouting.org says “Scouting is family, fun, friends and a lifetime of adventure! It’s the place where young people can grow to become their very best future selves.” [3] Another organization that uses space in this building is Mel O’Drama, run by the vivacious Melanie Gillespie. Perhaps you remember the time Mel O’Drama came to perform a number from the Lion King during one of our services. Mel O’Drama creates a safe space for children to develop and grow, they are an inclusive group and Melanie works hard to empower children who have experienced bullying in other settings. Their mission is to: “[Empower] children and empower them with the tools they need to face troubling issues … working on confidence, awareness and helping [them] to let go and have fun ... [4] A third organization that began to use the classroom space in our building last September is the Rising Tides Academy. Rising Tides Academy serves pre-school, kindergarten and elementary school age children in a free and open environment. They anticipate expanding to Middle School and High School over the next few years. Their mission “is to build a community where children thrive: the whole child is seen and their inner genius is explored.” [5] And so, we can be proud that Wollaston Congregational Church is welcoming children in this place, even if that work is being done indirectly by those who know how to do it best. Over the coming weeks, we will have the opportunity to discern God’s wisdom for the future of our congregation and our church building. I am sure that the decisions we make will ensure that children of all backgrounds are welcomed in this place well into the future. When I began this sermon series I was concerned that discerning God’s wisdom for our lives and our life as a church might seem too swirly and impractical. But, as we read last week from Proverbs and with James’s and Jesus’s guidance this week, we can see that enacting God’s wisdom is about tangible, actionable qualities, like tenderness, gentleness and humility. I leave you with one verse from James’s letter followed by a reflection by Steve Garnaas-Holmes Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. —James 3.13 Beloved, be my wisdom, my way of seeing, knowing by your love. Be my gentleness, my soul meeting another. Let my wisdom be tender respect for all. You who are so gentle with me, by your grace let my gentleness be my good life. [6] May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.facebook.com/HopeforHasti [2] https://rarediseases.info.nih.gov/diseases/10109/cornelia-de-lange-syndrome [3] https://www.scouting.org/ [4] https://www.melodramakids.com/index.php/en/about-us.html [5] https://risingtidesacademy.com/ [6] https://www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/5cl3a2cjlyjlf4y79ats6e72jtlglc There’s Tenderness in Wisdom Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church on September 12th, 2021 Scriptures: Proverbs 1:20-33, Mark 8:27-38 There have been many stories told this past week or so, and most of them begin something like this: “there was a clear blue cloudless sky, that September morning…” Some of us remember it, others are too young, still others were not yet born. Twenty years ago yesterday the events in the United States … in Boston Logan Airport, the twin towers in New York city, Newark Airport, Somerset county Pennsylvania … these events created a new chapter in the history books. And now we live in a post-9/11 world. September weather, the return to work and school, the beginning of the church program year have always felt so very hopeful to me. I love beginnings! It used to be that my parents from the UK would come and stay with us during September. It was their favorite month to be in New England too. It also used to be that my husband, Simon, would resume frequent business travel, following the hiatus of August. Although he was not out of town every week, waking early and heading to the airport felt routine. That September morning with so many others, he got up, showered kissed me good-bye, grabbed his bag and left for the airport. It looked like a beautiful morning for a flight. A little later I got the older children on the school bus. I would be taking our youngest, Chloe, who was 4, for a play date on the playground later. My parents were packing bags to take a little road trip and explore Connecticut. While Chloe was still watching “Blue’s Clues”, the phone rang and when I answered Simon said “It’s me … I’m here in New Jersey … I’m OK.” I had not reason to think otherwise, and wondered why he’d taken the trouble to call. It’s a short flight from Logan to Newark, no reason to call and check in. He should have been busy in his meeting, not wanting to talk. “I think you need to turn on the TV and see what is going on,” he said, “everyone is watching the news here. I’m going to call right now and get a rental car. I will need to drive home tonight. There won’t be anymore flights today.” I turned on a small TV in our bedroom as he told me what had happened. It took a while to absorb the news, the first plane had already hit the twin towers and while I was watching a second plane hit the other tower. This would be the rest of the day for many of us, trying to process what had happened. Trying to grasp the enormity of it. Trying to understand the implications. I think we are still doing that 20 years later … twenty years of changed behavior in which we try to avoid the thing that has already happened; twenty years of “war on terror” as if terror was an enemy we could find and stamp out. In days and weeks that followed 9/11 perhaps you remember the tenderness. There was tenderness in strangers’ eyes, at the grocery store, on the road, in the eyes of the few people who were out and about. It seemed that with the collective understanding that people were grieving, we were giving one another grace. My parents returned from their road trip prematurely “we felt as though we were intruding on their grief,” they explained. This was a tender time. I asked my friends, “how long do you think this tenderness will continue?” Some said that this was how it would be from now on, but I was cynical. I didn’t believe it. I knew that we would return to “normal” hustle and bustle, aggression, and disregard. It felt inevitable. The Sunday following 9/11, our UCC church was packed. It is was the only Protestant Christian church in town, the place most people would turn in times of crisis. It seemed that Sunday everyone in town needed something from our church. Gallup reported that following 9/11 churches, and other places of worship, experienced a rise in attendance, but by September 2003 there was a return to the earlier levels.[1] I’ve often wondered what those who returned to church following 9/11 were seeking and whether they found it. And I’ve wondered why they had drifted away again by 2003. Of all the possible reasons, I’ve come to think it is basically a matter of tenderness. People were tender in the aftermath of 9/11. And tenderness is not easy to sustain. Tenderness means you are open to pain, and mostly people are not willing to deal with that. They did not change their busy lives to make time for church for very long because it was too painful to do so. And yet, there is wisdom in tenderness. This morning we begin a series of readings from the Revised Common Lectionary. The Lectionary provides us with a 3-year cycle of readings from the scriptures that follow the liturgical seasons, the feasts and festivals. We are currently in the very long season after Pentecost known as Ordinary Time. This season provides a time for us to explore the scriptures without focusing on holidays like Easter or Christmas. It happens that over the next few weeks the Old Testament passages will be taken from the Wisdom Literature or Writings. We rarely focus on this major component of the Hebrew Bible, which includes the Psalms, Proverbs, the book actually named Wisdom. The Wisdom Literature also includes stories, like Daniel, from the Jewish diaspora. These stories are intended to guide and inspire God’s people when they find themselves living in foreign lands and cultures. This week we began with a passage from the book of Proverbs, which is attributed to King Solomon. We are introduced to the person of Wisdom or Sophia. She is a woman who stands in the bustling marketplace and cries out, if only people will listen to her. The people who hurry past the busiest intersection in the city are unwilling to listen to the voice of Wisdom. They are not prepared to pay attention to her knowledge and learning. Wisdom warns them that they will regret their disregard for her, particularly when disaster strikes and they truly need her. A reading from the gospel of Mark is paired with this reflection on wisdom. In the gospel story, the disciples ask Jesus questions about his identity. The disciples are prepared to tell Jesus who others say that he is: "John the Baptist; or Elijah; or one of the other prophets … reincarnated.” But Jesus isn’t interested in who others say that he is. “Who do you say that I am?” he asks them. He wants them to access their own wisdom, to speak their own truth. Even so, he is annoyed when Peter says “You are the Messiah.” Perhaps Jesus is aware that this is not true wisdom coming from Peter. This as a rehearsed reply or a foolish hope. Perhaps Jesus is upset about the expectations that will be put on him if people begin saying he is the expected Messiah. It seems that he is trying to say that the people’s understanding of the Messiah is not God’s understanding. Steve Garnaas-Holmes writes “The Messiah was a mighty warrior who would liberate Israel from Roman oppression. A kind of Superhero. Jesus might have quoted Princess Bride: ‘You keep saying that word, but I do not think it means what you think it means.’” [2] When Jesus asks the question “who do you say that I am?” it is not a quiz, a question asked during a teenager’s confirmation process to be sure they know the answer. We may reflexively reply “Son of God” but that is not what he is asking. He is asking, who am I to you? Who do you say that I am? Jesus isn’t asking “who do you say that I am on Sunday right here in the church?” He’s asking “who do you say that I am when the terrorist strikes, or the hurricane rages, when you are holding the devastating diagnosis in your hand, when you are faced with mask-wearing and social distancing for just ‘one more month’?” Can you stay in that tender place, long enough to ponder Jesus’s question with courage and wisdom? Wisdom cries out to us in the street, she can be that obvious sometimes. But she also dwells within. She may be our companion while we ask ourselves that question “who do you say that I am?” Later, the Apostle Paul will write to the Colossian church saying that “all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” are hidden in the risen, ascended Christ (Col 2:3). This scene from the gospel of Mark demonstrates Jesus’s earthly wisdom, provoking the disciples to access wisdom themselves. He goes on to predict his own suffering and death, a crisis that is coming and a time when they will certainly need to heed the voice of wisdom. While Peter is hoping for a Messiah who will take power and reign, Jesus is predicting that they will actually be entering a time of great tenderness. In the years since 2001, the number of major national and world events seems to have been accelerating: climate change, refugees, food insecurity, recessions, political instability, most recently the pandemic. When the coronavirus pandemic began we also experienced a time of great tenderness and support for one another and for the medical community. As people became frustrated and exhausted that tenderness seems to have mostly evaporated. Of all things medical science and healthcare became politicized. But I do believe that tenderness can be rediscovered, if we are willing, to open ourselves to the cry of Wisdom; and to access our innermost response to Jesus’ question: “Who do you say that I am?” May all God’s people say Amen [1] “A similar effect was evident with respect to Americans' ratings of the importance of religion in their lives. This increased from 57% before the attack, to 64% shortly after. One year later, 65% said religion was very important in their lives, though this included a short-term spike as the one-year anniversary approached. The most recent data show 58% saying religion is important in their lives, virtually the same as in May 2001.” Jeffrey M. Jones, “Sept. 11 Effects, Though Largely Faded, Persist” posted September 9th, 2003 http://www.gallup.com/poll/9208/sept-effects-though-largely-faded-persis.aspx, (accessed on March 24th 2013) [2] https://www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/pmfey49pk3wk8hr9znwypd7fbwfnmr |
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