Coming Down to Earth: The Wisdom of the Universe Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On October 17th, 2021 Scriptures: Job 38:1-11, 34-41 This week our sermon series of three, on the book of Job, comes to a conclusion. On the first week we read from the first two chapters of the book of Job. These chapters are in prose, and tell the story the mischief maker, Hassatan making a wager with the Lord God, to try and lead God’s faithful servant, Job, away from faithfulness. Job is then afflicted by the loss of his family and belongings as well as a terrible skin disease. This is an ancient fable that challenges the assumptions of retributive justice – that is, the idea that God rewards good behavior with good fortune and punishes bad behavior with bad fortune. Later Job’s friends flip this argument, by making the assumption that Job must have sinned because he has been afflicted. The story wraps up neatly in the final few verses of the book. But the middle and largest portion of the book of Job consists of dialogue between Job’s friends and Job, and finally – this week, in chapter 38 – the Lord God enters the conversation. Scholars have concluded that the poetic section of Job was written by a different author and at a different time from the narrative sections: the first two chapters and the very end of the book. The poetry reflects on the problems of Jon’s suffering and God’s response to that suffering. Today, we began to read the text at the moment that the Lord God began to speak. This is momentous. For chapter after chapter, the friends had offered advice and Job had lamented his terrible suffering. Job cried out to God to come and answer his case, that he does not deserve to suffer because he has not done anything wrong. Suddenly, the four men are silenced by what happens next. A great whirlwind sweeps toward them, from across the wilderness, creating vast clouds of dust and sand. The sight and sound of it are overwhelming. Job and his companions, cower in fear, awe and self-protection. Now God speaks. The Lord tells Job, gird up your loins … get ready to answer these questions, mortal. Job has been wishing God would answer him … but as they say “be careful what you wish for.” My Old Testament seminary professor used to say that God takes Job on a “magic carpet ride” across the cosmos. God shows Job the marvelous work of creation. God demands: "I will question you, and you shall declare to me. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements--surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?” (Job 38:3-7) Job might well be trembling in his sandals by now. God’s speech goes on well beyond the verses that we read today: “Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth?” (Job 38:18) “Do you know when the mountain goats give birth?” (Job 39:1) “Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars and spreads its wings toward the south?” (Job 39:26) Who does Job think he is, daring to challenge the very creator of the universe? Wisely, Job does not try to answer God’s questions, instead he bows low and says “I have uttered what I did not understand, … therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes." (Job 42:3,6) Even in the midst of his suffering, Job is awed by the majesty of God’s creation. Job is reminded of his position in the order of things. Have you ever experienced the awesomeness of God in creation, in the midst of grief? Do you go to the ocean, or the mountain, or the lake, when things seem too hard, overwhelming, or sad? Recently I’ve been thinking about my earliest memory of a spiritual experience. It was a time of sitting alone, and becoming aware of my place in the world. I was around 9 or 10, maybe a little older. My aunt and uncle had a vacation cottage by the North Sea coast and we sometimes used to go and stay with them there. My cousins, my brother and I had a lot of freedom to go outside and wander. We usually went together to create “dens” in the undergrowth near the cliff path down to the beach. But on this occasion I went to sit on the top of the cliff looking out over the North Sea. It was a windy day, not warm. The waves were not steady, but rough and fierce. The noise of them was powerful. The wind bit my face and whipped my hair. I was mesmerized by the rolling waves, never ceasing. I could see the horizon, and yet I knew that the ocean continued far beyond it, eventually reaching northern Germany or Denmark. I loved the starkness of it all. I can’t remember what was going on for me at that time except a certain kind of melancholy. I don’t think I was particularly upset or sad. I just had a deep well of longing. I don’t know what I was longing for except the assurance that there is something so capacious and intimate, that there is an experience belonging. Alone in the wind on the cliff, I felt part of it all. I felt appropriately small in the midst of it. And in those feelings I also felt held and loved. Since that time, I have often returned to nature for times of prayer or to simply be in the presence of Spirit. Last summer in the midst of pandemic uncertainty, I sat beside a lake and watched a flock of birds swoop over the water. I asked my spiritual director “why is nature so settling at times like this?” Then I answered my own question: the birds, the fish, the animals, the water, the trees and the grasses are unaware of human suffering. They go on doing their thing, swooping, swimming, running. The wind goes on blowing. The ocean goes on rolling in. I find reassurance in their ongoing life. We are comforted by the lack of impact of our troubles on their lives. As I prepared for this week’s reflection, I was reminded of a poem that Scott Cleveland read during Ellie’s Memorial Service last year: “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver. [1] I wish I had known that Ellie enjoyed Mary Oliver’s poetry, it’s something we could have talked about. During Ellie’s Memorial Service we remembered her passion for nature and her deep interest in learning more about the created world. We were comforted by the images of Ellie in all stages of life. Most of all I will remember the Bluegrass song “I’ll Fly Away” and the image of Ellie bending to pet the enormous sculpture of a dragonfly. Her delicate frame showed that she was almost ready to fly away too. Like Job, and every other human who lived before and has lived since, we all return to the dust to the earth. And in doing so, we fly away to God. God’s interruption to Job’s lamentation is expressed in the form of poetry. Some aspects of God can only be expressed in poetry, music, or visual art. Words are inadequate, the hard and brilliant truth too overpowering for human thought. “Wild Geese” tells the timeless truth using different imagery: Wild Geese You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -- over and over announcing your place in the family of things. [2] May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.vanderbilt.edu/olli/class-materials/2017Summer.MindfulnessWk1.pdf [2] Ibid.
0 Comments
Help Me! The Wisdom of Lament Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church on October 10th, 2021 Scripture: Job 23:1-9, 16-17 Last week we began to read from the book of Job, and this week we continue this study. The scripture reading we heard today comes from much later in the book. And so we need to review what has happened since the day when the Lord struck down Job’s animals, possessions and children, and then inflicted Job with terrible skin sores all over his body. As Job sat in the ashes, three friends came to be with him. At first the friends did the thing that friends do. They sat down with him in the ashes and silently joined Job in his suffering. They sit for seven days, like the Jewish Shivah in which friends and family members of a deceased person sit and mourn together. When the seven days are over, Job begins to lament his suffering, cursing the day his was born. This seems to stir something up in the friends, who begin to analyze Job’s suffering. They conclude that he must have committed some egregious sin that caused the Lord to inflict suffering on him. They recommend that he tries to do better and tries to make amends for his sin. This does not go down well with Job who insists he is blameless. And so, in the passage we read today, Job laments. The usual way to make a lament, in religious terms, is to direct a complaint to God. But Job’s main complaint is that God is absent. If only Job could find God, then he could make his case to God. The silence and absence of God is unbearable. Judaism has a long tradition of Lament, which we Christians have inherited. The Wisdom Literature, that includes the psalms, contains many lamentations. There is even a book in this genre named Lamentations. In the Hebrew scriptures there are many communal lamentations over the destruction of the first Jerusalem temple by the Babylonians. The lamentation of the destruction of the second temple by the Romans continues to this day, as Jewish people gather at the one remaining temple wall in Jerusalem – the Western Wall – and cry out to God. The scriptures also include personal lamentations: cries of people who feel lost and abandoned. They are grieving the death of loved ones, or suffering from painful and terrible diseases. They have lost their livelihoods, their homes, or they have been ostracized from their communities. Our reading for today from the book of Job is paired with Psalm 22. This is formulated in the traditional structure of lament. The psalm begins “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Perhaps you remember this verse from the Good Friday readings. Jesus cries out on the cross "my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matt 27:46) Theologians have wrestled and argued about why Jesus, the Son of God, would cry out using this verse. How could Jesus feel forsaken by God, when he is God? Jürgen Moltmann, argues that “Jesus was indeed abandoned by God … [and at the same time] was never closer to God than in this absolute abandonment.” [1] According to the gospel of Matthew, Jesus had been betrayed, abandoned by his friends, condemned by the crowd, flogged, stripped, and condemned to die on the cross. His feeling of abandonment may have been very much like that of Job. In all the accounts of Jesus on the cross there is no reply to his prayers and cries. God says nothing. I’m sure that we have all also felt abandoned, like Job, as some time or another. Perhaps we were dialing 911 for a loved one and felt a moment of panic and aloneness in such a frightening situation. Or perhaps we were receiving a devastating diagnosis, of terminal cancer or another incurable disease, for ourselves or a loved one. Perhaps we were terrified by impending danger: such as an active shooter in our school or workplace; our car about to crash; or there was an earthquake, hurricane or fire threatening our safety. I had a professor in seminary who used to say “the only prayer you have is the prayer you say when you haven’t got a prayer.” Or like the first of Anne Lammot’s three essential prayers “Help!” [2] Have you ever cried to God “help me, help me, help me”? In these days, we also experience the need for communal lament. In our church, we might lament the loss of the ways of the past. We lament the fact that we now have no choirs, or children, Sunday school, or youth events. The passing of these things is inescapable. We cannot turn things around. The culture has moved on and, for the most part, churches have not been able to keep up. We have been weighed down by facilities like ours. Here at Wollaston Congregational Church we lament what will probably be the loss of a large part of our building and all the memories that go with it. And yet, it is what is needed for this time and place. In our culture today we might well lament the deaths of more than 700,000 Americans due to COVID 19. This is now a greater loss that that of the 1918 flu pandemic. And we must mourn, grieve and lament the 645 children who have died in the US due to COVID. Theologian N.T. Wright wrote about the Christian tradition of lament for Time magazine at the beginning of the pandemic. He encouraged readers to avoid looking for an explanation for the crisis saying: “It is no part of the Christian vocation, then, to be able to explain what’s happening and why. In fact, it is part of the Christian vocation not to be able to explain—and to lament instead. As the Spirit laments within us, so we become, even in our self-isolation, small shrines where the presence and healing love of God can dwell. And out of that there can emerge new possibilities, new acts of kindness, new scientific understanding, new hope.” [3] Lament can come quite naturally and viscerally, from the gut. And there are also ways to create lamentations, so that we can share our cries, our hopes, our dreams with one another. Amy Rowe of the Incarnational Anglican Church writes, "In a lament, people pour out their complaints to God in an effort to persuade [God] to act on their behalf, all the while stating their trust in [God]. Laments can have seven parts:
Over the course of my life, I have been invited to write a Psalm of Lament on a number of occasions. One of those times was on a clergy retreat in November 2018. Looking back I notice that our culture had a great need to lament in 2018. Our community was polarized, isolated, separated. Many people were struggling with mental health and addictions. Ministry felt hard even then. Since the beginning of the pandemic, many of these problems have grown worse. Friends, we can remind ourselves that we have a deep need to lament even now. The suffering and struggle of our church and our culture goes on. These things have not yet been repaired. It is more healing to be truthful than to put on a “happy face.” And, most important of all lamenting provides an appropriate outlet for anger. God invites our anger by providing us with the practice of lament. God would rather take our anger, than have us direct it at one another. That is what God does on the cross: absorbs the anger, violence and pain of the world. I have discovered that a Psalm of Lament can pour out quite naturally, at least for me. Writing, drawing, singing, or speaking a lament is like a “good cry.” It gets things out. Generally, in scripture and in my own experience, God does not speak in response to lament. But, like Jesus on the cross, we can be the closest to God we’ve ever been when we dare to lament. And so, we do not hear from God in today’s passage from Job. Job’s lament does not even move on from the complaint to praise. As we leave him, Job is still searching for God, wondering where God is in all his suffering. Next week God will appear, but for now we leave Job praying the only true prayer he can utter, “help!” May all God’s people say, Amen [1] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume) (Kindle Locations 5474-5475). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition. [2] Anne Lammot, Help Thanks Wow: Three Essential Prayers, (New York, Riverhead Book, 2012) [3] https://time.com/5808495/coronavirus-christianity/ [4] https://www.incarnationanglican.org/post/writing-a-lament #Blessed? Wisdom for the Hard Times Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On October 3rd, 2021 Scripture: Job 1:1, 2:1-10 This week we begin a three-week journey with the book of Job. You may wonder if I’ve taken leave of my senses. Job is not the most popular book in the Bible: it is a story of very bad things happening to very good person. But … I did promise a sermon series on the wisdom literature of the Bible. The Revised Common Lectionary gives us Job, which is a part of that wisdom tradition, for these three weeks. Job deserves a deep dive, it is not a book that can be summarized in just one sermon. In our quest for God’s wisdom we need to tackle the perennial question: if God is all powerful and all just, why do bad things happen to good people? The name given to this theme by academics is theodicy or “God’s justice.” Rabbi and author Harold Kushner phrases the question differently, in his popular book, “When Bad things Happen to Good People” first published in 1981. That is, there is no point in asking why, because it is a fact. In this world, bad things do happen to good people. The book of Job is that it is a book “in conversation” with other books of the Bible. Job is most likely an ancient fable that had been circulating in the ancient world long before it was written down. When the Hebrew scriptures and the collection of “wisdom writings” were compiled, Job was included. Job offers a counter to the fundamental understanding the book of Deuteronomy: “If you will only obey the Lord your God, by diligently observing all his commandments that I am commanding you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations of the earth; all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, if you obey the Lord your God…” (Deut 29:1-2). Many blessings are listed as a reward for obedience to God: prosperity, children, protection from enemies. The story of Job argues a sound “no!” In ancient times, the God was imagined as presiding over a Divine Council of lesser deities. The book of Job starts out with this Divine Council deciding to play some tricks. There is a mischievous character, Hassatan, who goes to and fro on the earth creating problems for the Lord. In later stories Hassatan will become Satan, the personification of evil. Hassatan presents himself at the council. For some reason the Lord asks Hassatan, “have you considered my servant, Job?” Job is righteous and obeys the Lord his God. He makes sacrifices for the sins of his children. And he is indeed blessed with prosperity, health and a large family. Perhaps the Lord wants to show off Job as an exemplary man of faith. But Hassatan wants the Lord to test Job and find out whether he will remain faithful if his fortunes change. The Lord agrees to the test. Lo and behold, one day Job learns that all his oxen and donkeys have been taken away, his servants have been killed by the thieves, his sheep have been burned, and a storm blew up and collapsed the house of his adult children, and they have all died. Job simply responds “naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21) In the episode we heard this week, Job is also been cursed by a painful skin disease all over his body. And so he has picked up a piece of broken pot to scratch his sores, and sits forlorn among the ashes of the fire. His wife is outraged that he continues to be faithful to the Lord who has given him these afflictions and admonishes him to “Curse God and die!” But Job only responds saying “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?" He insists that he will remain faithful. Over the coming weeks we will hear the story unfold. Modern Christians, like ourselves, may push back on taking a lesson from the book of Job. We may argue that the covenant in Deuteronomy is not for us. We have a new covenant, in Jesus Christ who died and rose again for our sins. We think that makes us more advanced than those ancient people. Jesus revealed a better God to us, the God of the New Testament, not the Old. However, there is a school of thought not much different from the covenant in Deuteronomy that is alive and well in Christian circles today. It is known as the Prosperity Gospel. The Prosperity Gospel preaches that God will reward faithful Christians with health, wealth and happiness. “Nothing is impossible if you believe.” [1] Practitioners of this gospel pray bolding for healing from all kinds of physical ailments. If the suffering patient isn’t cured, it’s because they didn’t believe strongly enough. Material wealth is seen as a blessing from God. And during the pandemic Prosperity Gospel preachers, some of whom are televangelists, have proposed rejecting scientifically researched vaccines and treatments in favor of faith healing. They have done great harm, persuading their followers to avoid common sense protection from COVID and simply to have faith that God will protect them in some other way. Kate Bowler is a professor at the Duke school of Divinity. She was researching churches that practice the Prosperity Gospel, when her own world fell apart. After years of infertility and miscarriages, Kate and her High School sweetheart husband conceived a son. Her career was a success and she had her dream: a beautiful family. But, when her son was a one year old, Bowler was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. Her response to the doctor who called to tell her the news was to say “but I have a baby.” The diagnosis was just not fair. Bowler had thought that she was not a believer of the Prosperity Gospel. As she observed mega-churches and miracle healings, she’d say to herself “I’m just studying this stuff … I’m nothing like them.” But she goes on to say “if you live I this culture, whether you are religious or not, it is extremely difficult to avoid falling into the trap that virtue and success go hand in hand.” Bowler observes that the Prosperity Gospel has become a new kind of Civil Religion in the United States. This is illustrated all over social media by shiny photos of immaculately dressed, photogenic families on pristine beaches accompanied with the hashtag “Blessed.” It is important to be grateful for what we have. It would be worse to take the good things in life for granted. But, do those families really lead the shiny #Blessed lives the pictures portray? Are those who don’t feel shiny and positive ashamed of their hurt or fear or pain? In recent weeks we have learned about the harm done to teenaged girls by “perfect” pictures on Instagram, which make the girls feel worse about their own bodies, often leading to eating disorders. [2] For myself, I’ve been attracted to the #blessed lifestyle and community. I’ve stood on the edge awkwardly, like a shy child on the first day of kindergarten. I’ve tried a few carefully curated family pictures on social media. Yes, I’m grateful and I’m blessed. But to attribute my privilege, health and material wealth to God’s blessing is just wrong. And to say I haven’t suffered with the rest of the world is a lie. I have been blessed by the people in my life who won’t let me get away with that kind of self-deception. They are people who’ve shown me their real selves and their real suffering. They’ve demonstrated, for me the need to cry out to God in the darkest hours. And, incredibly, I’ve noticed time and again that those who suffer, and are honest about their suffering, are often the most faithful to God. They are the ones who care for people in hospice, or minister to families whose loved ones suffer from cancer or dementia. They are the ones who have a parent or a child at home who demands their daily care and attention. They are the ones who have confessed their own addictions and support others on the same awful journey. These are the not-so-shiny people who stand close to God, and will draw us closer too if are ready to show our own less than shininess. Kate Bowler admits that when she received her devastating diagnosis she thought: “Good things happen to good people … am I not good? Am I not special? Why is this happening to me? Be good and good things will come to you … my own personal prosperity gospel had failed me.” As she went through treatments, though, she received what she calls “a gift.” In all the suffering, pain and trauma, she experienced love in the suffering, saying “when I was sure I was going to die I didn’t feel angry, I felt love.” She came to the conclusion that “Life is beautiful … And life is hard” and that there are no guarantees … “Life will break your heart, and life will take everything you have. Even in the darkness, there will be beauty and there will be love.” [3] Even in the darkness, there will be beauty and there will be love. Here is a meditation by Steve Garnaas-Holmes Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad? —Job 2.10 What if love does not hand out stuff, good or bad, but is simply present in all things? Without judging, can I receive it? What if nothing happens “at the hand of God,” but everything is in the hand of God? Without judging, can I receive it all? What if things, like rain, are both good and bad, and neither, but simply are? Without judging, can I receive them? What if good and bad are so wrapped up in pleasant and unpleasant that we can't tell very well? Without judging, can I receive everything? What if my life is neither good nor bad but wondrously full of pain and pleasure, and the presence of God? Without judging, can I receive it? I open my hands. [4] [1] Kate Bowler, "Everything happens for a reason" YouTube, uploaded by TED, 2 July 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTcJmIbn5nw&t=176s [2] https://www.wsj.com/articles/facebook-knows-instagram-is-toxic-for-teen-girls-company-documents-show-11631620739 [3] Kate Bowler, "Everything happens for a reason" YouTube, uploaded by TED, 2 July 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTcJmIbn5nw&t=176s [4] https://www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/8fmtmbfnm2jlxy2jm548lb52tfd2ts 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 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 What are Your Smooth Stones? Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church on June 20th, 2021 Scripture: 1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49 Today we heard the last part of the big story of our sermon series from the book of 1 Samuel. Our reading for today begins as the Israelites are engaged in a battle with their long-time enemies, the Philistines. The Philistines have brought out their champion, Goliath, who is so large that he is described as a giant. Goliath is clothed with weighty bronze mail, has a massive spear, and a shield-bearer goes ahead of him. He has challenged the Israelites to choose a man to fight him, one on one. The victor will determine the outcome of the battle and the losers will be enslaved by the winners. King Saul and the Israelites are terrified at the sight of the champion and do not know what to do. This is what is going on when the young shepherd boy, David, arrives on the scene. He has come to bring provisions to his brothers who are fighting for Israel. David takes in the situation and thinks back to his time caring for sheep on the hillside. David has used his skills with the slingshot to take the predators, lions and bears, that threatened the sheep. He convinces King Saul that he can use the same technique with the giant. But Saul is sure that David will need to be armed against the enemy. Saul takes off his own armor and offers his own sword for David to use. Since Saul is so tall and David is small, the armor does not fit and it is too heavy to wear. It would impede David rather than empower him. And so David goes to the wadi – the stream running through the valley – and picks up some smooth stones. He is ready to go. Goliath is amused by the sight of David coming for him with a small slingshot and no armor. Perhaps he’s even a little insulted. He asks "am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?" David asserts that he does not need a sword or spear, as he comes in the name of the Lord. As the Philistine advances, David takes a stone and slings it, hitting Goliath in the temple and bringing him down, dead. David was equipped to defeat the giant without wearing Saul’s armor. This is the way that God has prepared David to be a warrior and the future king of Israel. David wins the day because he remains true to the way God made him, wearing his own clothes. He does not try to be anyone else. The story of David and Goliath has been told for generations in many different ways. One way it was told was in a poem written by Phillis Wheatley around the time of the American Revolution. Phillis Wheatley was born in Senegal/Gambia around 1753. [1] She was kidnapped from her family at the age of 7 and transported to America via “the Middle Passage” on a ship named the “Phillis.” She was purchased by John Wheatley at the auction block in Boston, to serve as a domestic slave at the age of 8. Phillis served John Wheatley’s wife, Susanna, who noticed that Phillis was an intelligent child, even though she was small. The Wheatley family provided an education for Phillis, so that she learned to read and write in Latin and Greek as well as English. She became a poet and was the first black American woman to be published. Her first book was “Poems or Various Subjects, Religious and Moral” published in 1773. The poem “Goliath of Gath” tells the story of David and Goliath. In Wheatley’s telling, the story concerns slavery. The losers of the battle will become the slaves of their enemy. David saves the Israelites and delivers them to freedom. As a petite young woman, Wheatley became an 18th century David. Words were the smooth stones Phillis Wheatley used against the giant of slavery. Wheatley attended the Old South Meeting House in Boston, where she was baptized. Old South Church, United Church of Christ in now located in Back Bay and they celebrate Phillis Wheatley Sunday every year in May, promenading to the statue of Phillis at the Boston Women’s Memorial on Commonwealth Avenue. The year that I served Old South as ministerial intern, the entire congregation walked out, after the morning service to eat cupcakes at the Memorial. The day is designated “hat Sunday”, everyone wears their finest hats, to honor the ladies of the African American church and their custom of wearing fine hats to church. Yesterday was Juneteenth: June 19th, also known as Black Independence Day. June 19th is the day that marks the end of slavery in Texas in 1865 – the last state to make that commitment. This year, 2021, is the first time that this milestone has been observed as a federal holiday. It is appropriate to that we remember Phillis Wheatley today. We are also celebrating the young people of Wollaston Congregational Church today, and the scholarships that have been awarded. These scholarship funds were established by the former Wollaston Congregational minister, Rev. Elden Zuern, and another Phyllis: Phyllis Winslow. Phyllis was a member of our church who graduated from Andover Newton Theological School at the age of 80. She proved that we are never too old to learn. The students we celebrate today have gone up against a giant disruption to their education during this past year of pandemic. In spite of the challenges to work and learning that COVID presented, they are all planning to continue their education in the coming school year. Each student has demonstrated their commitment to our church in their application. They each speak of smooth stones that they were equipped with by being a part of our faith community. They show that they are dedicated to being the person God created them to be, without the need for someone else’s armor. We are all proud that Connor has now graduated from North Quincy High School and will go on to Michigan State University. He will major in business. Connor told us that growing up in Wolly Cong helped him to learn how to make a difference in the world through volunteering. He put this learning into practice last year, when he dedicated his Eagle Scout project to the church, painting and restoring the social hall downstairs. It is beautiful, and as the groups who use our building are beginning to re-gather again, they will enjoy the hall this summer. Connor plans to begin a business one day, and will apply the principles he learned here in the church. He says “Employees would find it rewarding to volunteer for good causes, clients of businesses would prefer to know that they are doing business with a good corporate citizen.” Connor, your smooth stones are a commitment to volunteering and community service. Hannah is continuing her education at Florida State University and is majoring in Public Health. She remembers Sunday School and coffee hour at Wollaston Congregational, which gave her the basis of her faith. At church, she learned how important it is to love what you are doing, and we can celebrate that she has chosen to love and serve the community through Public Health. We have certainly learned, this past year, what a valuable and necessary field of kind work that is. Hannah, your smooth stones are your commitment to the health of the community. Izzy is also continuing her education at Norwich University, majoring in Exercise Science. She says that her earliest memories are from this church, and remembers watching Veggie Tales in Sunday School. I wonder if she saw the one about Dave the shepherd and the Giant Pickle. Izzy says that “Being surrounded by such a positive community at church has led me to implement that attitude into my everyday life.” We are proud that Izzy is using the gifts God gave her – a dedication to sports and exercise – as her smooth stones, to make the community a healthier, happier place. Megan’s first day at WCC was my first day here too. She came along to the church with her family friend, Mary. Megan had moved to Boston to begin her first job in early intervention through music therapy. Megan has subsequently moved back to Pennsylvania, to be with Sophie and to continue her work, but now she plans to take additional counseling courses to become a Licensed Professional Counselor in the state of Pennsylvania. We’ve missed Megan while she’s been gone, and so we’ve been so glad she has joined us on our Zoom services over the past year. Megan says “WCC has been the first church in which I truly feel ‘at home’. I have been accepted for who I am in all facets and have been encouraged to grow in my faith and community since the first day I came with Mary to a service.” Megan, you grow ever more true to who God intends you to be, and how God intends you to show your gifts in the world. The smooth stones of your abilities in music and therapy will help hurting families and their children to heal. Abby came to WCC as a youth member and says that she learned the importance of community here. It’s encouraging to know that Abby thinks of WCC as a safe environment where she developed her professional skill, her smooth stones of: “public speaking, social engagement, event management, and documentation through photography.” Abby is pursuing a Masters of Photography and Integrated Media at Lesley University, which will lead her to new ways of developing and connecting with community. Today we have heard examples of people of all ages choosing to remain true to whom God made them to be. They have honed the smooth stones of their gifts and skills to serve the community in their own unique ways. Our world faces the giants of our time: the COVID pandemic, climate change, racism, epidemics of loneliness and disconnection. Whether we are as old as Phyllis Winslow, or as young as Phillis Wheatley, God calls us and equips us by Christ’s life-giving Spirit to defeat these foes. This is WHY we are church … May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.biography.com/writer/phillis-wheatley Covenant in Times of Transition Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church on June 13th, 2021 Scripture: 1 Samuel 15:34 - 16:13 For these last weeks of the “program year” we are engaging with one of the biggest stories of the Old Testament. This big story tell truths about power and control in leadership, about humanity’s relationship with God, and about our failure to remain in covenant. In the narrative preceding the story we read today, the people Israel have failed to remain in covenant with God, yet again. In some part, this is because of the poor leadership of their king, Saul. Saul has been bold and aggressive in battle against Israel’s enemies, but he has not taken the time to pray and listen to God. And Saul has ignored the prophet Samuel and his admonishment to obey God. As you may remember from the text we read last week, Samuel was reluctant to appoint a king in the first place. Saul has proven him right. Saul stood head and shoulders above the other Israelites, he was handsome and visibly powerful. But his ego got the better of him. In times of crisis he depended on his own military skills and prowess, he ignored God’s guidance through Samuel. In God’s eyes Saul has failed as king and so Samuel has been called to go and anoint another chosen one. Samuel is aggrieved – his part in calling and anointing Saul has come to nothing. He is sorely disappointed in this first king. As our story begins, God admonishes Samuel again, asking “how long will you grieve over Saul?” The question is much the same as God’s directive for Samuel in last week’s text. It might be summarized by the acronym QTIP: “Quit Taking it Personally.” Instead of taking Israel’s sins and lamentations on himself, Samuel is called to get up and take the next step in God’s plan. He is to fill his anointing horn with oil, and go to a man named Jesse in Bethlehem. The next king will be one of Jesse’s sons. Samuel does as the Lord has instructed and, one by one, beginning with the oldest and tallest, meets Jesse’s sons. The Lord cautions Samuel not to look on stature and outward appearance, but to listen to whom God chooses for the king. As each son comes to meet him, Samuel realizes that none are them are the one. And so he asks Jesse if these are all his sons. Jesse admits that his youngest and smallest, David, still a child, is out watching the sheep. And so they send for David and bring him in. He is ruddy, we are told, with beautiful eyes. Later we will learn that he is a musician and a poet as well as a shepherd. The minute Samuel sees David, he knows that he is the one, and so he pours the horn of oil over David’s head anointing him as the next king of Israel. The narrative of the rejection of Saul and the anointing of David is important to us, because it concerns the larger issue of covenant and leadership in a time of transition. There is a transition from the rule of the Judges during which, we are told, everyone did what was right in their own eyes. You might say they operated in crisis mode, flying by the seat of their pants. The people realize that this way of being is not sustainable. Other nations seem to be doing better, because they have monarchs who keep things under control. And so they demand a king. The Israelites’ demand for a king is a break in covenant with God. They are supposed to keep God as their sole sovereign, listening to and deferring only to God. Rather than punishing the people for this transgression, God acquiesces and allows things to play out. Perhaps God knows that Saul will be tempted too much by his ego. Perhaps God knows that any man will be seduced by the power of such a position. The young boy, David, will eventually become king. But Saul will reign for years to come. Samuel will soon die, but for now the oil has been poured. David has been anointed. It is unlikely that he will forget the experience of being called in from the field, to meet the imposing, old prophet who poured oil over his head. When David grows and becomes king he will struggle with ego too. He will disobey God many times during his reign. But unlike Saul, he will return to God, bowing before him and crying out “create a clean heart in me, O God!” Author and theologian, C.S. Lewis, once wrote, “Human history [is] the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.” [1] In the era of the Judges everyone did what was right in their own eyes. It was a libertarian time that didn’t really make anyone happy! Instead of returning to relationship with God, the people think that having a king will make them happy. And then King Saul thinks that winning battles for Israel and enjoying power and adulation will make him happy. Samuel grieves Saul’s lack of faithfulness, and God simply tells him to forget about it and move on. What will really make the people happy, both individually and collectively, is to remain in covenant with God. Don’t we often think we know better than God about what will make us happy? We chase dreams of fame and fortune. We indulge in small luxuries to distract ourselves from the loneliness and stresses of life. Mindless entertainment replaces the time we set aside for prayer. Or we work too long or too hard, neglecting our stewardship of our bodies and our relationships with our loved ones and with God. Our processes and covenants hold us accountable and call us back to relationship with God when we wander. And yet in times of crisis, like this past year of pandemic, we often throw out those processes and covenants. We fly by the seat of our pants. We get done what we need to get done. I’ll be the first to admit that this is a familiar mode of operation for me. During the mid to late 1980’s I worked for an electronic startup company. In order to get ahead of large, established competitors, we operated in a “putting out fires” mode. Working that way could make me feel like a hero. As a software engineer I could save the day by pulling a late shift and figuring out a last minute bug fix. Unfortunately, that work style can become addictive but it’s not sustainable. It’s important to stand back and take stock once in a while. Over this past year of pandemic we have been operating in a similar disaster mode, both in our church and in our lives. Fifteen months ago we had to “pivot” – oh how I’ve come to dislike that word - from worship in person to online programming. Pastoral care for one another became a logistical challenge. And over our program year we have performed each rite of passage – a baptism, funeral services, and a wedding - in ways that had been adapted for the pandemic. I’m sure that in your own lives, among your own family and friend groups, you have done the same thing. Perhaps, like me, you feel proud that you’ve figured out new ways of doing things, and also exhausted from the need to constantly adjust. This is a good time, like the Israelites emerging from the era of the Judges, to check back in with our covenants. Thankfully, the Stewards have been prodding me to do just that. Our Treasurer, Marian, has often reminded me, since I was hired, that the church agreed to provide a Pastor/Parish Relations Committee or PPRC. This is a small team that acts as a liaison between the congregation and the minister. They facilitate good communications and hold both the congregation and the pastor accountable to their covenanted life together. I admit that I haven’t paid attention to the need for this committee. Each year here at Wollaston Congregational Church seemed like another crisis year. But with the Stewards’ prompting, I invited Mary Treacy and Mary Phillips to serve as members of this team. They have graciously accepted. The PPRC’s first order of business was for me to review the Ordained Minister’s Code. This is the covenant I made when I was ordained. I was also prompted looked back on my covenant, or employment contract, with Wollaston Congregational Church. When I looked back at these covenants something jumped out right away. I realized that over the past year I stopped checking in on how many hours I was working. I have not taken the appropriate time away to rest. This is a typical pitfall for ministers. As I began to work with the newly formed PPRC, I realized that there is another covenant that is missing. It is a covenant that we – members of congregation together – make with one another: a behavioral covenant. This code of behavior governs the way we communicate with one another and handle concerns and conflicts. Behavioral covenants are typically grounded in scriptures like Matthew 22:39 “love your neighbor as you love yourself.” One example covenant says -We will approach all things in prayer -We will speak from our own personal experience -We will listen with an open and non-judgmental mind and try as hard to understand as to be understood -If we are unable to communicate effectively with one another we will invite a third party to be present and assist us -We will support the final outcome of a decision-making process -As forgiven people, we will choose to forgive one another. In the spirit of Jesus and with God’s help, we will show respect and love in all we do as we journey together. Over the coming months our church will be facing decisions and, yes, more challenges. And so this is the perfect time for us to covenant in the way we will be in relationship together. In our progression through the story of Samuel and the kings of Israel has reached a point where Samuel has done all that God required of him. He will die before David becomes king. The people of Israel continue to wrestle with their covenantal relationship with God. Generations later, Jesus will be born in Bethlehem and he will begin the movement that invites Gentiles into that same covenant. And so, we try – as individuals and as a church – to live up to our covenant with one another and with God. Often we fail. We have to be forgiven and we have to forgive. That is the nature of God’s love for us: seeking us out and restoring us to covenantal relationship. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.cslewisinstitute.org/webfm_send/156 Leadership in Transitional Times Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday June 6th, 2021 Scripture: 1 Samuel 8:4-20 I have to confess, Samuel, the character in our Old Testament story for today, is one of my favorites. I’m attached to Samuel’s birth narrative, the story of his mother Hannah praying so hard for a child at the temple in Shiloh that the Priest, Eli thinks she is drunk. Hannah promises to dedicate her child to the service of God at the temple in Shiloh. I’m also fond of Samuel’s call story, who as a young boy was woken by God three times in the night as he sleeps in the temple. Each time he thinks it was his Eli, now his guardian, who was calling him. Finally Eli helps Samuel understand that God is calling Samuel to service. The priestly duties would normally pass from father to son, but Eli’s sons are not up to the task. They drink too much, desecrate the shrine at Shiloh. They are not priestly material. And so Samuel takes over from Eli. Samuel becomes a priest in a time of the Judges, when everyone did what was right in their own eyes. It was a time of chaos. He was the last judge of Israel and the first prophet. Later in the story he will identify first Saul and then David, as the ones whom God calls to be kings of Israel. This week we enter the story at the point where an older Samuel is serving both as priest and judge. Sadly, history has repeated itself. Samuel’s sons are not up to the priestly task, just like Eli’s children a generation before. There have been years of conflict between the Israelites and the Philistines. Israel’s sacred symbol - the ark of the covenant – was captured and subsequently returned. Eli’s sons died in the wars. And then Eli died when he heard the news. Since the warfare has ended, at least for a time, Samuel returns to his home town, Ramah, to govern from there. Today’s reading begins as the elders of Israel come to Samuel in Ramah to talk about leadership. They say to him "You are old and your sons do not follow in your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like other nations." Perhaps Samuel is blindsided. He seems unaware of his sons’ failings. He does not acknowledge that he is growing old. These must be hard truths for him to hear. He is wise enough not to respond immediately, but prays on this matter. The way that the story is told, the Lord responds to Samuel directly with guidance. God assures Samuel that the people are not rejecting him. They are rejecting God, who is supposed to be their one true king. The Lord advises Samuel to let them have what they want. But, also, to warn them of the consequence of what they ask for. Samuel does just that. He lays it on thick. We do well to remember that this is history written by the victors favoring King David and highlighting the weakness of David’s predecessor, Saul. We will see this story unfold in the coming weeks. Samuel gives the elders dire warnings about the consequences of appointing a king. Samuel tells them that the king will wield power and control over them. He will take their property for his own and enslave them. Samuel doesn’t realize that the elders are left with little option. There are no new priests or judges following in Samuel’s footsteps. The people do not listen to the warning, but instruct Samuel to appoint a king. They want to be like other nations, and have someone to go before them and fight their battles. This is a major transition for the people of Israel. Leadership isn’t easy especially during times of transition. And still, leadership and governance is called for: in our communities, in our nations, in our churches. Democracy is considered to be the best form of governance by the western world. The word “democracy” means rule by the people. Democratic nations measure the will of the majority of people by votes cast. And still, this is not a perfect system. People sometimes think that the congregational church and the United Church of Christ have the same democratic style of governance as the culture as a whole. But that is not exactly the case. A key principle is that our church is in a covenantal relationship with the UCC. The UCC does not have bishops or any similar hierarchy. Each congregation is considered autonomous, and belongs, in covenant again, to a conference of the United Church of Christ. Our conference is the Southern New England Conference. Within that conference we belong to an association: the Pilgrim Association. The conference has ministers and administrative staff members who support and guide the churches and associations. The conference also discerns and promotes matters of justice among the membership and seeks to speak prophetically to the culture. The denomination speaks to but not for the local church. As far as the governance of the local church is concerned, each voice is valued and should be heard. But that does not mean “rule by the will of the people.” Our true calling is to be governed by the will of God. As the preamble to the Constitution of the United Church of Christ states: “The United Church of Christ acknowledges as its sole Head, Jesus Christ, Son of God and Savior.” Each member of our congregation has access to the Spirit of Christ and voice of God, through prayer, study and reflection in community. It is our responsibility to be prayerful and mindful of God’s purposes for us and our church. Whether we speak or we vote, we are called to heed the will of our head, Jesus Christ, as best as we understand it. At best, local churches call leaders who listen and do not allow dominant voices and subgroups to drown out quieter voices. At the same time, our governing councils, like the Stewards in this church, are called to provide leadership, which is a stronger stance than simply gathering opinions. Once the leadership group comes to consensus over a particular issue they are empowered to act, unless the by-laws call for a congregational vote. The pastor provides spiritual leadership in the local church and the moderator provides organizational leadership. That division may sound clear cut and yet whatever we do in church is bound by our relationship with God. That relationship is, by definition, spiritual. The spiritual and organizational leadership of the congregation is intertwined. A strong covenantal relationship between the pastor, the governing board and the congregation is important. Of course, Samuel lived in times long before the creation of any democracy or anything like congregational polity. Israel makes a huge step forward by calling for a monarch. They move toward organization in the midst of chaos. The monarch is to be appointed and approved by God. Ideally he will be a strong, but benign leader. The task of seeking out a king is a change in plan for Samuel and it stings. It is hard for Samuel to accept that he is growing older and that his sons are not following in his footsteps. The elders of Israel rightly challenge him and bring the best proposal they can come up with. The people find it difficult to conceive of God as their sole leader, and so they look for human sovereign. The situation will not be perfect, and it will not be permanent. It is the best that they will have for the time being. Samuel’s role will change, he will become a prophet. This creates a balance of power. Instead of granting the spiritual leadership of the people solely to the king, God appoints prophets. The prophets “speak truth to power.” There is no limit on what a prophet can say, even though he must suffer the consequences when he bears bad news or harsh criticism. Prophets hold rulers accountable when they abuse their power. They hold the people accountable when they do not follow the will of God. Neither rulers nor the people are bound to listen, but the prophet’s voice is there to speak for God none-the-less. Friends, these times are certain transitional for all of us. We dearly hope that the pandemic we have been enduring for these past 15 months has at least abated in our corner of the world. It was such a joy to see so many familiar faces at the yard sale yesterday, and to gather together in person and in our sacred space again today. We knew, even before the pandemic began, that our congregation was being called to renew our vision of what it means to be church in this neighborhood. This requires a major transition on behalf of our leaders and our members. We can celebrate the fact that our lay leadership: Debbie Barrett, Moderator and Chair of Stewards, and our Stewards – particularly our Stewards of the Building and Resources, Kate Wylie and Marian Channon - have been discerning the best way forward in faith. This means reducing our footprint and adjusting our environmental impact to fit the current size of the congregation. It means researching and determining the best model of church to fit the spiritual needs of the congregation and our mission in the community. Each time we discuss this topic it seems that there is someone who is a little blindsided, like Samuel. Perhaps you are finding it difficult to accept that your role in this congregation is changing as you age. Perhaps you are concerned that the younger generation is not following in your footsteps. Things will look different in the church of the future, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. It takes courage to lead where people do not necessarily want to go. And it takes strength to accept the hard truths that leaders sometimes have to share. And so my prayer for us to day is that our leaders will take us where God is leading and others will have the courage and the grace to follow. May all God’s people say, Amen The Wind of the Spirit Blows Communication! Pentecost, May 23rd 2021 Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Acts 2:1-21 Each week in our Order of Worship we pray the prayer of Invocation. That is, we invoke or we invite God’s Spirit to be with us in our worship. Some have said that this is inappropriate, because God’s Spirit is always with us – within and all around. It is up to us to notice her. I agree, and at the same time, I realize that I am not very good at noticing the Spirit, without having my attention drawn to her. On these days of outdoor services, my focus is on the weather, setting out the chairs and our makeshift altar, positioning the lectern and the tripod for my phone. With all that busy-ness I need a prayer of noticing to turn my attention to what God is doing here. I need to notice the Spirit of Christ. Today, I’m inviting us to approach the story of “the gift of the Holy Spirit” with the same lens as the prayer of invocation. Perhaps reframing Pentecost as the day the disciples and the crowds around noticed the Holy Spirit in particular. After all the Spirit made her debut millennia before this moment. Go back to Genesis chapter 1, and you will find her there, hovering over the waters. She appears again in chapter 2, breathing life into humankind. The dramatic event we read of this morning breathes life into the apostles again. It awakens them, and all those around them, to the powerful presence of the Spirit of Christ. We learn that this happens while they were “all together in one place.” The apostles are all together in a house in Jerusalem, on the festival of the Pentecost fifty days after Passover. This is another joyful Jewish holiday, a celebration of the first fruits of the wheat harvest. When I ponder this story, I’m often left wondering what kind of a house they were in. We hear that a sound, like the rush of a violent wind sweeps in, filling the entire house. And divided tongues, like fire, appear among them, and a tongue rested on each of the apostles. We learn that a great crowd gathers around – Jews of every nation. And so, I wonder, how the crowd witnesses this. How do they hear the sounds of the Spirit and see the divided tongues of fire? How do they smell a hint of burning, and feel the electricity in the air? I have to imagine that the apostles are not in a closed, contained kind of house. There must at least be open windows and doors. Perhaps they are assembled in an open-air courtyard, or on the house roof. This is not a private, invitation-only event. As the story is told, we notice, more and more, the involvement of those observing from outside. Once the sounds and sights of the Holy Spirit are noticed, there is another dramatic effect. The apostles begin speaking such that the Jews from every nation understand in their own languages. The people already know that the apostles are Galileans. They are considered simple country folk who wouldn’t have a knowledge of languages, certainly not Cretan, Arabic, or the Libyan dialect. The apostles speak about God’s deeds of power. Some members of the crowd are curious, they ask “what does this mean?” But not everyone is impressed. Others sneer, and accuse the apostles of being drunk. There are always sneer-ers when the Spirit of Christ is noticeable. They sneer to mask their fear of the power of God, manifest in the moment. Perhaps if they say the apostles are drunk, it will be true. Then they can get along with life, uninterrupted by this disturbing display of power. Peter is inspired to interpret the moment in the light of writings of the prophet Joel. Joel anticipates the “last days” when God’s Spirit pours out on “all flesh”: all genders, all ages, any social status. Almost five years ago, when I began as your minister here at the Wollaston Congregational Church I was inspired by the Wollaston ocean breeze. It was a beautiful September Sunday and the Deacons had kept open the doors, to help to cool the sanctuary. Suddenly, though, there was a violent gust of wind. The doors slammed, people turned around, startled. I couldn’t have wished for more. Yes! The Holy Spirit had showed up. I loved it, even if others in the congregation were not so sure. In some ways I feel the same about our outside services. We have to secure the white cloth on our little altar with clothes-pins to avoid having it blow away. We cannot light candles for more than a few seconds. And, I agree, the weather is often a pain. This time of year it is so changeable, and we can never be sure if it is going to be too hot or too cold. I know that there are people in the congregation who just want to get back inside the sanctuary as soon as we can. After all, the sanctuary was designed, created and crafted specifically for worship, unlike this lawn. And yet, there’s something about this outdoor space I want to hold on to. It gives us a sense of “all together in one place”. At the same time it is not private. And, of course, it exposes us to that unpredictable Wollaston ocean breeze. It enlivens us to the disturbing action of the Holy Spirit. A striking aspect of our story today, is the new ability of the apostles to speak so that people from many nations understand in their own languages. We might wonder what was the relationship between the Parthians and Medes, Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes. Perhaps relations between these many diverse peoples were harmonious, but I somehow doubt it. When diverse groups of people come together – even when they are supposed to have a common faith – conflict often emerges. I think of Jerusalem and Israel/Palestine today. The various sects of Judaism, the numerous branches and denominations of Christianity, and the Muslim residents. Israel/Palestine often seems to be more of a tinderbox than a melting pot, and the terrible violence over recent weeks has shown the worst of that. Carrie Ballenger, a pastor serving the English speaking congregation at the Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem posted a report on life in Jerusalem this past week. She accompanies her report with a photograph of graffiti that says “stay human.” Rev. Ballenger writes: “Most of our church workers live in the West Bank … The Ramallah checkpoints have seen violence between Israeli soldiers and Palestinians in the last days—Fridays [Islam’s Sabbath] are worse. (My colleague who lives in Ramallah plans to stay home. ‘Maybe I could get to church, but I’m afraid I couldn’t get home.’) “Armenian priests were attacked by settlers near Jaffa Gate this week. When I hear this, I wonder at the ‘protection’ I thought my clergy collar gave me. My American-ness is probably much better armor. …. “In front of the falafel shop [someone calls out]: ‘Sister! Sister, do something, please to end this war, to make the people come back. Pray for us!’ … “It’s 90 degrees. A woman sits next to me on the train and unwraps her headscarf carefully from around her neck, attempting a cool breeze with her hand. She is the only Palestinian on this train, which is usually packed with a wild mix of religious Jews, Palestinians, schoolchildren, and soldiers. “Last night, the girls next door (23 and 22) walked to the nearby Jewish neighborhood for groceries. They told me, ‘We decided to speak only English to each other there, not Arabic. We were too afraid.’ “When this latest round of violence started, my dear Israeli friend wrote me to check in, and to say his young kids … want to be sure I know that I know that ‘not all Jews think this is right.’ I was so sad they would even need to worry about that. I’m so very sad—and angry!—that there is any reason for them, or any child, to be afraid. Fear is our true enemy. Fear of each other is what keeps this evil occupation alive. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. And stay human.” [1] We can give thanks that a ceasefire has been brokered in Israel. Even so, we are aware that tensions might easily flare again, until the underlying problems are solved. And, still, in Rev. Ballenger’s post, in the midst of fear, we notice evidence of the Holy Spirit inspiring human-to-human communication: friends checking in across cultural boundaries. Here in our corner of the United States, we can be grateful that we rarely experience that kind of violence, whether from rocket fire or missiles launched on vulnerable residential communities. And still, we know that we need to do better in our relationships with members of our own faith, and other faiths. We can do better with people who originated from different nations, both new immigrants and long-time residents. We can do better with those who look different from us, and with those who speak a different language from us. The bottom line is that we need to learn to talk with one another about the things that matter. I recall a parenting book titled: “how to talk so that kids will listen, and listen so that kids with talk.” That is what the Holy Spirit enables us to do, if we allow her: talk so that others will listen, listen so that others will talk. There are those who think that conflict in a church, or other community is a bad thing. And there are others who understand that conflict is inevitable in human relationships. How we acknowledge and communicate through conflict is what is important. Friends, these days perhaps we are like those people gathered in Jerusalem on Pentecost. Will we notice Spirit, about to sweep in disturb us, giving us the gifts we need to communicate, if we dare? Or will we sneer and turn away, like the fearful members of the crowd? Let’s pray that we will be the former. May all God’s people say, Amen If you read this far, whether you enjoyed the sermon or it provoked another response, please leave a comment. I'd love to be in conversation with you. [1] https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=10159609609733799&set=a.54296043798 |
If you enjoy a sermon or have a question, please leave a comment. If you would like to quote any of my material in your own sermons or writings, please use appropriate attribution. I look forward to hearing from you!Archives
April 2022
Categories |