“The Great Sorting” Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church on November 26th, 2017 Today, is the last Sunday of the Church year. Next week we will begin the “watchful waiting” of Advent, but this last Sunday we anticipate the “Reign of Christ”, the coming of “the Prince of Peace”. And so, today, we look back on Jesus’ last days on earth. Jesus is in Jerusalem with the disciples, his friends and followers. What he has been foretelling, in the verses leading up to today’s scripture, is troublesome to say the least. He has predicted that the temple will be destroyed, and there will be wars and rumors of wars, famines and earthquakes. Nations will rise up against nations. There will be “false messiahs” and all kinds of confusion. Jesus tells his disciples that in a few days he will be taken away and crucified. They will be left alone, to face the chaotic coming times, left with the promise that in the fullness of time Jesus will return to them in glory. I think the disciples could be excused for being worried. They are facing the prospect of being disconnected from Jesus, their source of comfort and guidance. They are soon to be cast loose, like sheep without a shepherd. So Jesus gives them a vision, of how things will be in the end, that they will know where to find him while he is gone. It is a vision of the end of days, in which he “the son of man” will return in glory, appearing both as a reigning monarch and a shepherd. All nations are gathered around him and he is sorting sheep from goats. This is how Jesus’ followers, appear in this final scene - either as sheep or goats. The criterion for sorting is simple. In the time that Jesus was gone from the earth did they, or did they not,
The sheep have done all of these things, but the goats have not. Both the sheep and the goats are confused and surprised. "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” Both the sheep and the goats ask the same questions. And the answer is the same in both cases: Jesus has been with them all the time present to them in the hungry, the naked, the stranger, the sick and those in prison. The difference is that the sheep showed mercy and compassion while the goats did not. When I hear this story I anxiously wonder how I will be sorted. Like a nervous first-year Hogwarts student, faced with the sorting hat and hoping for Gryffindor, I try to imagine how I will get into the sheep’s group
This kind of anxiety gets me nowhere. If I am totaling my acts of mercy this way, balancing the positive column against the negative, it seems unlikely I am really a sheep. Am I more concerned about my own standing in the final judgment, being sure to recognize Jesus, than simply loving my siblings on the margins? But, of course, whether I am a sheep or a goat doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Jesus is always present in surprising ways. This makes me think of an occasion when I was a working as a chaplain intern in a long-term care facility. I hadn’t been working there long, when my supervisor told me there was a new woman on the unit, close to the end of her life. She was quite isolated. Could I add her to my list of visits? I wanted to be sure to get to her, so later that afternoon I made my way to this woman’s room at the end of the hallway. Her mind was confused from the disease she was suffering and the treatments she had received. She had not been communicating well with the nursing staff and the other patients. It seemed that they had decided to leave her alone. In her stark room there were a few pictures of good-looking well-dressed family members. But it seemed they, also, had decided to leave her alone. And so she looked up to me from the hospital bed, and threw her arms up in despair, “I never expected to end up like this!” she cried. After we had sat for a while, the darkness of the evening was drawing in, I offered to say a blessing for her. I felt sadly inadequate. As a Jewish patient she deserved a well-spoken Hebrew blessing, but that was beyond me. I pulled out my booklet of Jewish blessings, and read in English. Our eyes met and hers welled with tears. Even as the words were less than traditional, the feeling that passed between us was filled with a holy presence. “Thank you,” she said, “thank you for being here, thank you for coming.” I touched her hand good bye, and on the drive home I silently prayed “thank you for being here, Jesus, thank you for coming.” And so now I have a sense of why Jesus would have us visit him while he is sick: because it gives us a sense of his holy presence. My time with this woman was not simply a satisfying “feel good” experience. We had been there together, sharing suffering and isolation for a few moments while we looked into each other’s eyes. This is just one connection that I made during my time at the care facility. But I learned more about connection from someone who participated in a small group meeting I once attended. This person, full of compassion and love for all who suffer, said: “If something is happening to someone else it is happening to me.” She was talking of the power of connection with one another. She lamented the ways in which we have become so disconnected in our world today:
Jesus is the one who meets us in the connections we go out of our way to make. On the borders of separation, at the boundaries of social grouping: that is where we can recognize the Good Shepherd. Over the past 2000 years we Christians have looked for Jesus in the lofty places: in lovely sanctuaries, in stunning cathedrals, in candle lit retreats, in visual art, in transporting music, in complex theologies, and in scholarly sermons. All these things may serve to build us up, center us, challenge and call us to deeper questioning. But in the vision we have today, of the Reign of Christ, Jesus invites us to find him by crossing boundaries and the borders to the ones from whom we have been disconnected. If we are sheep – and I know that we are – we will know where to find the shepherd. Go and find the shepherd, you know where, go and find. Thanks be to God, Amen!
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We’re Not Doing Faith Wrong, We’re Doing it Right Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On November 19th, 2017 Scripture: 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11 Today we read a passage from a letter the Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Thessalonica. Scholars agree that this letter is the earliest writing we have in the New Testament, dating somewhere between 40 and 50 CE. That is, it was written only about 20 years after Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection and ascension. For us, looking back 2,000 years a 20 year difference may seem incredibly short. But for the Thessalonians, who had the expectation of seeing Jesus descend from heaven on the clouds and gather them all up, the Parousia, or the second coming, has been delayed too long. They are anxious about what happens to the ones among them who have died before Christ’s return. They are weary of waiting. They are beginning to think that they are doing the faith wrong somehow. Paul writes to encourage them in this wait. He tells them “you’re are not doing it wrong, you are doing it right.” He reminds them that they already know, in their hearts, what he is about to tell them. This is much needed reassurance, after all this congregation is birthing the very first new generation to grow up in the Christian faith. Very soon Jesus’ teachings, through the oral tradition, will be learned second hand. They’ll be passed down from those who heard them first to the next generation. Paul is beginning this tradition of writing down, and if we search the letters of Paul we will find teachings and ideas that are later reflected in the written gospels. This transition from oral to written, this maturing of understanding of what Christ coming again to the world means, is very significant. It is probably quite an upheaval for the church in Thessalonica, as they grapple with these ideas. Paul has a good pastoral instinct to assure them that they are not doing faith wrong, they are doing it right. Of course, Paul would not be Paul if he didn’t include some teaching, some exhortation for the church, as well. They are to live as children of the day, they are to live in the light. They are to remain awake and aware, noticing what is going on in their world. They are to avoid the pacifiers of quick-fix religion and overindulgence in substances. The members of the church in Thessalonica need this teaching as they grapple with this delay in the coming of Christ and what it means for them. The delay may be long, but they are not to be lulled into a false sense of security. They are not to turn to their cozy blankets, to snooze until Christ comes. Instead they are to remain aware and alert, ready to adjust their understanding. Ready to take the leap and bring the Christian faith to the next level, like a trapeze artist letting go of one swing before flying to grasp the next one. In the book “The Great Spiritual Migration” Brian McLaren talks about the natural stages of understanding God through human development. McLaren labels these understandings of God as God 1.0, 2.0 up to 5.0. [1] A newborn knows very little of the world, except that she is the center of it and her needs must be satisfied. The 1.0 understanding of God is the One who meets our needs: our hunger, our comfort, our thirst. Of course, it is the newborn’s caregivers, such as parents, who generally meet those needs in infants. But when a baby is loved and cared for and their needs are met, they develop what is called “primal trust” in God 1.0. This is the “God of loving faithfulness who will take care of you as you make your way through life.” An infant with this view of God, is not doing faith wrong, they are doing it right. The stages go on: God 2.0 comes along when a child learns to share, to say please and thank you, to play well with others. God 3.0 is the God of rules and fair play, generally learned by school-aged children. God 4.0 emerges as adolescents form romantic attachments outside the family, find communities of belonging, and recognize their own need of forgiveness. This is the God of affection, fidelity, forgiveness and family. Unfortunately, development isn’t always as smooth as it might be. Some infants do not receive the care they need, and their ability to attach and to trust is tragically undeveloped. Trauma is known to stop maturity, and so a traumatic event, such as the loss of a loved one, might cause a child or adult to become stuck in one stage. On the other hand, in healthy growth, it is the failure of one understanding of God to meet our needs in a crisis that may cause us to move to the next level. When I left home and went to college, I felt very much adrift. In my male-dominated engineering classes I was regarded as a novelty or viewed with suspicion. When it came time to pair up for lab work, the last remaining guy who had no partner shuffled silently toward me. I heard that another student had come to talk to me during a social gathering, but then had been put off by my strong northern accent. I had been a strong student in high school, but I found the engineering classes ranged from difficult to impossible. I suffered form a huge loss in confidence, and a kind of regression in development. I felt like a outcast on campus and longed for a place of belonging. Church became my refuge and I took sanctuary in the on-campus Christian group. This group, was a little cliquey, but I found that most of the members were kind and accepting toward me. There were even some fellow-northerners I could chat with without having to watch my accent. Our meetings took place in a cozy setting, sitting on the carpeted floor of the chaplaincy we’d sing praise songs accompanied by the strum of guitars. It was a safe space for me, but it also became warm snuggle blanket, a pacifier which I had long outgrown. One week, a speaker came to talk to the group and asked “how many are you converting for the Lord” each week? This speaker was scornful of students who talked about bring one or two people to Jesus. They were supposed to be reaching ten, twenty a week at least. The situation was urgent. My hackles rose. What happened to forming trusting relationships? What happened to talking about matters of faith while respecting the other’s beliefs? What happened to listening and learning from people of other faiths? I talked about the problems I was having with the group’s style with the Anglican chaplain on campus. He was not very patient with me. He quoted another letter of Paul’s, 1 Corinthians 3:2 “I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food.” “Liz, you are too old for milk, grow up and eat some solid food.” I didn’t take kindly to the remark at the time, but it has stuck with me all these years. McLaren says that God 4.0 inspires individuals to progress from personal selfishness of me to the social security of we. 4.0 helps young people learn adult commitments such as teamwork, sacrifice, citizenship and social responsibility. As McLaren goes on to say it “leads … to affection, fidelity and forgiveness in family, community and nation – but only for people from our religion, ethnicity, or tribe.” Teenagers and adolescents, those who have not found a place of belonging earlier in life, are not doing faith wrong when they look for a place of welcome. We, here in this church, are committed to offering that kind of place for them. But then, encouraged by Paul’s assurance that we are not doing faith wrong, we are to offer a place of growth. For others and for ourselves. Brian McLaren speaks of becoming an atheist in relation to one view of God in order to migrate to another understanding of God. Has that ever happened to you?
These lessons and hard to learn. We may feel alone and at sea, as we give up on a particular view of God. And so, I encourage you to remember that you are have a place of belonging and community here, no matter what you can believe or do not believe. And yet, let us take our reassurance from Paul, that we are not doing faith wrong and remember that there is, in McLaren’s terminology, God 5.0! We may have to give up our warm blankets. We’ll need to leave behind quick-fix religion, and the addictions that tranquilize us. It’s necessary to remain awake and alert, to see how God is emerging in human consciousness, to see how Christ would be delighted to return in this day and age. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. envisioned this view of God, as the God of “beloved community.” Mohandas Gandhi envisioned this view of God as Truth and Love, in an India that would be free from colonial rule and the oppressive caste system. Archbishop Desmond Tutu envisioned this view of God in the children’s book “God’s Dream.” For us to let go our former view of God, in order to grow to a new understanding is not doing faith wrong, it’s doing it right. Let all God’s people say… Amen [1] Brian D. McLaren, The Great Spiritual Migration: How the World’s Largest Religion Is Seeking a Btter Way to Be Christian, (New York, NY, Convergent Books, 2016) Stay Awake... Keep Noticing Preached on November 12th, 2017 Scripture: Matthew 25:1-13 There are just three more Sundays left in the church year, including today. On November 26th we will celebrate “Reign of Christ Sunday”, before beginning again with the first season of Church year: Advent. In these last weeks of the year, Jesus’ teachings turn our attention toward “the Christ.” That is, the One whom Jesus has been, with the Father from the beginning, and the One he will continue to be when he no longer walks bodily in the world. Writer and Franciscan Mystic, Fr. Richard Rohr says, “Christ is not Jesus’ last name, but the title of his historical and cosmic purpose …Whenever the material and the spiritual coincide, there is the Christ … the Christ comes again whenever we are able to see the spiritual and the material coexisting in any moment, in any event, and in any person. All matter reveals Spirit, and Spirit needs matter to ‘show itself’!” [1] Fr. Rohr believe that “‘the Second Coming of Christ’ happens whenever and wherever we allow this to be utterly true for us.” These is a difficult concept to grasp, and yet if we absorb its meaning, our understanding of Jesus’ teachings in these last days will be all the richer. Let’s keep these thoughts in the back of our mind, as we consider the Gospel message for today. So, we are still in Matthew’s gospel with Jesus in Jerusalem in the final days before his crucifixion. Jesus finally leaves the temple following much teaching and many questions from the religious leaders. He then leads the disciples to the Mount of Olives where he begins to talk with them privately. The topic of the conversation continues to be what will happen when he is gone. In this remaining time before his arrest and crucifixion, he warns them, repeatedly, to be ready. They cannot afford to get sleepy, they are to be watchful for signs of his return … signs of his presence. He emphasizes this over and over. It is as if his return really depends upon their noticing. Then, as is his habit, he tells a parable. It’s one of those kingdom of heaven/wedding feast analogies, that really turns things upside down. Ten bridesmaids go to meet a bridegroom. The groom is occupied by the final negotiations for a bride price with the bride’s father. As always, Jesus stories are embedded in the culture of 1st century Palestine, including a patriarchal approach to marriage. The tradition is that the bridesmaids will meet the groom and accompany him to the bride’s house for their wedding. They are to bring lamps, because these negotiations are known to go on into the night. Five of these bridesmaids, known as the wise ones, are prepared with extra oil, just in case. The other five, described as foolish, are unprepared. They have no extra oil, they don’t have the insider knowledge about needing extra oil. Once their lamps burn out that will be it. The negotiations are exceptionally long. We can imagine the bridesmaids maybe waiting, catching up on the latest gossip, on the porch. As the time goes on they all fall asleep. Finally the bridegroom emerges, a shout goes out, “come and meet the groom!” This is the bridesmaids’ opportunity to do their job. It is darkest time of night and groom will need their light to lead his way to the bride. The “wise” bridesmaids may be prepared, but they’re not kind. They are unwilling to share their oil with the others who have run out. Smug that they have thought ahead and brought extra oil. I’m inclined to rename these “wise” bridesmaids, the mean bridesmaids. And so the foolish ones panic and rush off, fumbling in the dark, to the dealers to try and buy more oil. I don’t know what kind of dealer would be open at midnight, but because they were gone they miss the bridegroom. When they do return and knock on the door, which is already shut, the bridegroom refuses them entry, saying that he does not know them. The bridesmaids are not the only ones who are mean. Having told this story, Jesus repeats his warning to the disciples, keep awake, be alert. This insistence on being awake and noticing things, reminds me of an interview I heard recently on the Public Radio show “On Being” with Harvard Professor of Psychology, Ellen Langer. [2] Langer’s work focuses on mindfulness as a means to better health, competence and happiness. Langer doesn’t focus on meditation or yoga, although she agrees that these practices can be helpful. Instead she defines mindfulness as “the simple act of actively noticing new things,” being present to each moment. Langer gives an example of noticing “… you’re going to go home tonight and, if you live with somebody, notice five new things about that person … it can be very specific. And what will happen is, the person will start to come alive for you again, and that facilitates the relationship.” The kind of mindfulness Langer is talking about, and I believe Jesus is talking about to the disciples, means being present to all that is going on in the moment. Noticing draws us more deeply into relationship with those around us and it draws us more deeply into relationship with the created world. And so, according to Fr. Rohr it draws us more deeply into relationship with Christ … the Christ who comes again whenever we are able to see the spiritual and the material coexisting in the given moment. Now, like many others, I often move through the world in a mindless way, as Ellen Langer would describe it. Let me give you an example. Before I went to theological school, I worked in the Information Technology department of a large city hospital. When I first went to work at the hospital I felt very aware of the environment: of sick people, anxious family members, and slow, elderly people moving through the hallways. But, as time went by I became more familiar and rather mindless about my surroundings. When I went with my colleagues for lunch, I’d rush through the doorways or into the elevators without a thought. I wouldn’t notice the sick, anxious or elderly people I was passing by. A few years later, having left that job, I began my chaplaincy placement for ministry in a different medical setting. During the orientation, I was sent with another student, to pick up my id badge. We hit the up button at the elevator bank and waited, chatting about this and that. When the elevator arrived I was just about to jump in. But my fellow student stood back, graciously allowing an elderly resident to go in first. I was ashamed of my mindlessness, but I was grateful for the teaching moment. Having spent 7 months in that residential facility I learned to be more mindful of the way that so many elderly folks move in the world. I became mindful of the confusion they experience when they are rushed. I noticed how much more grounded I feel when I wait for them, holding a door or moving an obstacle out of the way, instead of rushing by mindlessly. That kind of mindfulness led me to other kinds of noticing. Perhaps you notice these things too: the flutter of a leaf in the wind; the winsome call of birds gathering in formation to fly south; the change in your partner’s gait or posture … perhaps indicating a tense muscle or a weary sadness; the $20 bill that falls from the elderly citizen’s wallet in the grocery store as he shuffles up in line, giving you the opportunity to return that money to its owner and say hello; turning back as you enter the convenience, so that you notice and assist the frazzled mother negotiating a double stroller through the awkward door. Noticing allows me to move through the world making eye contact, exchanging smiles. Sometimes I feel like only one, as I glance around the train car and see eyes, suspiciously glued to cell phones. I take joy in occasionally finding a co-conspirator in the noticing game, who’s willing to return my smile. Keeping awake and noticing, facilitates relationship. Keeping awake and noticing, allows the material and the spiritual coincide in our consciousness … and there is the Christ. And so that weird wedding parable, again. What do we notice? Well, the first thing is that your preacher managed to remain awake this week, and noticed something particular about the introduction to the parable. It’s like that wedding parable we had a few weeks ago. “The kingdom has been likened to…” Indeed, the kingdom has been likened to this, by those who don’t understand the kingdom. Each week we examine the excerpt from the scripture assigned for that Sunday. But it’s not wise to read any part of the gospel without reference to the whole. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus has already given his blessing to the merciful and to the peacemakers. He has declared that his followers “are the light of the world.” And in a couple of weeks we’ll hear another teaching in which he says that whenever they do something for the hungry, the thirsty, the sick and those in prison, they do it for him. Whatever would lead anyone to believe that if they were bridesmaids in a wedding, they would not share the oil for their lamps? Whoever would listen to the gospel and think that we are to keep our understanding of Christ coming into the world to ourselves? And whoever would believe that the One who said “knock, and the door will be opened for you” would then shut the door in the face of those without insider knowledge? Noticing isn’t simply about seeing the Christ in the world and filing that encounter under spiritual experiences. Noticing is about seeing the Christ manifest in the small acts of generosity, forgiveness and mercy, and justice. Noticing involves lifting up and magnifying those encounters for all to see. So my friends, I recommend that you stay awake, and when you leave this place I invite you to go out into the world noticing. May it be so. Amen. [1] https://cac.org/second-coming-christ-2016-10-30/ [2]https://onbeing.org/programs/ellen-langer-science-of-mindlessness-and-mindfulness-nov2017/ “I Hope You Dance” Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church on November 5th, 2017 Scripture: Revelation 7:9-17 I’m excited to be preaching from the book of Revelation today. It’s not often that the Revised Common Lectionary provides this opportunity, with only a few carefully selected readings from the book listed for the lectionary’s three year cycle. Hmm, I see you looking at me a little funny. I wonder if you’re thinking “are you serious?” Revelation hasn’t the greatest reputation among mainline and progressive Christians. Quotes from this book often bring to mind the dire warnings of the biblical literalists, threatening those “not saved” with tortuous “end times”. We hear that we will be “left behind” while the true believers who remain at the end of all times will be “raptured” to heaven. Less literal scholars of the Bible, remind us that the book of Revelation was written by John of Patmos. John is said to have written the book from exile by the emperor Domitian to the island of Patmos. The intent of this text was to encourage Christians persecuted by Rome in the 1st century. They were persecuted for their refusal to adopt the Roman religion. This crime was punishable by death, and so many Christians became martyrs for the faith. Rome required complete conformity of its citizens, diversity was seen as rebellion and a threat to the uneasy stability of Pax Romana. In order to avoid naming Rome and Caesar directly, John of Patmos envisions a great cosmic battle between God and some fantastic beasts, including one actually name the beast, another the dragon, another the whore of Babylon. The early Christians were to be encouraged by seeing their persecution as participation in this great battle, knowing that ultimately good, and God, will triumph. In my view, this scholarly explanation of the book is the most accurate. But taking an allegorical approach to the text can leave us feeling a little disconnected. We are not persecuted by the long-gone empire of Rome. So, why my enthusiasm today’s reading from the book of Revelation? What do I think that this book, and this passage for today, has to say to us, here and now in the 21st century church? One reason I enjoy the study of Revelation, because it is full of imagery, it is a work of imagination. I particularly like the passage we read today on All Saints Sunday which tells of the great multitude of saints coming before the throne of God. How else are we to understand the final victory of the irresistible love of God, except by means of imagination? And I think that if we choose to engage with this scripture at the level of our imaginations, it may very well speak to us today. Speaking of imagination, one image that I enjoy sharing on All Saints Sundays is a wonderful imaginative icon from St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco. The colorful picture you see here is just a fragment of the icon which wraps around St Gregory’s entire sanctuary. The icon depicts 90 saints, from many centuries, many cultures, many walks of life. You can see ancient saints like St Francis of Assisi, and living saints such as Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the South African civil rights leader. There’s Anne Hutchinson of our own tradition, puritan preacher and midwife. Then there are those not traditionally associated with Christianity, such as Charles Darwin who proposed the theory of evolution. John Coltrane, who was canonized by the African Orthodox church, plays saxophone There’s Anne Frank, famous for her teenage diary written while she was in hiding from the Nazis. And there’s Gandhi, Indian civil rights leader. It’s clear from the picture, these saints are not only singing or marching, they are dancing. In fact this mural is called “The Dancing Saints” icon. It’s not surprising that the members of St. Gregory’s often dance during worship. How wonderful for them to be surrounded by these 90 saints dancing with them each time they gather. I am convinced that some aspects of our reading today are reflected in the icon. The “great multitude” who gather in front of the throne of God, come from every nation, all tribes, peoples and languages. They wave palm branches and sing loud and long, “blessing and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever.” Revelation says that the multitude are clothed in white robes, the symbol of a martyr’s courage. But why not imagine them in their more colorful outfits? People from such a diversity of cultures and backgrounds always bring color to community. We can imagine that the music of their singing first takes on an African rhythm, transitioning to a Latin beat. Lilting Celtic melodies blend with the majestic European works of praise. John Coltrane’s saxophone complements the swell of angels’ trumpets. The saints respond to the rhythms, chords, and shifts in key with waving arms, tapping feet, swaying hips. No one is made less for their cultural contribution. Everybody, from the limping and creaking to the limber and lithe, adds to the creation of a singular beautiful living whole. They are not all perfect human beings, that is a contradiction in terms. But they have all been through ordeals. Yet they sing and dance in front of the throne of God, filled with joy. I would love to join them but I don’t do that. I don’t get up and sing and dance, especially not with strangers. I don’t do it because I would mess up the parade, I’m a bad dancer, you see. I know because, well because someone told me. As a little girl, I tagged along for ballet classes with my beautiful best friend, Laura. We learned to “point, point, bend and stretch.” But at home my parents would chuckle about my heavy footed steps were heavy and my solemn expression, as I concentrated on each pose. I didn’t let that early warning stop me, though, and I continued to dance. I participating enthusiastically in the concerts and pantomimes at my church. I’d rehearse and rehearse the dance steps and the songs. I loved the costumes and makeup and I loved to be on stage. Until, one day waiting for rehearsals to begin, I skipped across the empty stage, bowing long and low for imaginary fans and great applause. “You’re so stupid!” and older girl laughed. My cheeks began to burn and tears rose up in my eyes. I was deflated. My Sunday School teacher told me “take no notice” but it couldn’t be unsaid. I was a bad dancer, and what’s worse I was foolishly showing off what was in my own imagination. Better to keep it inside. We may not be persecuted by a tyrannical culture like imperial Rome, that requires conformity to the religion of the empire. And yet, I believe that we often feel shamed when we do not conform to our culture’s demands. Who told you that you couldn’t sing or couldn’t dance? Did you have a dream that as an adult you would spend your time making beautiful art, but that dream was over-ridden by those who told you couldn’t draw or paint? In our modern western culture, natural human creativity has been taken away from the people. It has been professionalized. A couple of generations ago, singing and dancing were the activities that bound people together, in the church and in the community. But now these pursuits are reserved for the perfect and the beautiful, Rihanna, Adele, and the other people I couldn’t name at the Trivia Night. We ordinary people are reminded that we will never be good enough or beautiful enough, to earn our place on the stage. We have been silenced and we have been stilled. In the communities and churches of other cultures, such as Latin America, Africa, and their diaspora communities in the west, singing and dancing continues. Perhaps because their members go through the great ordeals of poverty and prejudice, they know their need for expressions of joy. But it seems that the culture of perfectionism has impacted New England mainline Protestantism, earning us the nickname “the frozen chosen.” The joyful spirit that naturally arises among the saints when they are gathered has been damped down over the generations. Perhaps it has to do with our recent history of “all in the head” worship and preaching. We have preferred the rational and intellectual. We fear putting off visitors by getting too Jesus-y. But when the head is not led to connect to the heart, worship is a joyless experience. Like Imperial Rome, I believe our culture has something to gain from damping down our spirits and our joy. When we are contained in our church buildings, anxiously counting heads and patching up leaks, we are kept from doing the liberating and joyful work of Christ in the community. I encourage you to check out the St Gregory’s website (https://www.saintgregorys.org/.) Creativity in the form of visual art, music, song, dance in worship enriches the life of that community. But it has also led to some powerful ministries in their church. A former atheist and writer, Sara Miles, who is now an Episcopal priest, walked into St Gregory’s one day, attracted by their joyful and inclusive communion. She was led to begin a food pantry, taking the excess fruits and vegetables from Californian farms and markets, run directly from the church serving the very poorest residents of San Francisco. One of their website pictures shows Archbishop Desmond Tutu his smile beaming with infectious joy, visiting the food pantry. Just imagine, if we were to get out of this place and invite our neighbors to join the dance. They just might realize that they too can dance. And what a wonderful disruption that would be to a culture that damps down, separating people from one another, demanding conformity. I was told I couldn’t dance. But I am grateful for the book of Revelation, and its imagery and imagination, particularly on this All Saints Sunday. Our saints, the ones we have named today as well as the great multitudes gone before them, are singing and dancing and marching in. We had better get in some practice. As you come up the aisle for communion today, in the words of country singer Lee Ann Womack, I hope you dance. Amen. |
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