Coming to the Table Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday June 9th, 2021 Scripture: Acts 10:44-48 This morning we continue our sermon series on the lectionary passages from the book of Acts. A name like “Acts” begs the question, “whose acts?” Traditionally the book has been known as the Acts of the Apostles, but many scholars say that it ought to be called “the Acts of the Holy Spirit” instead. In every story we have read over the past weeks, the main actor has been the Spirit of God. She has not been passive but very, very active. She has been disturbing, prodding, and interrupting the apostles to behave in powerful and dramatic new ways. Our passage from Acts for this week begins “while Peter was still speaking” … so we know right away that there is some background to the story. We have to start there. At the time of the story, the apostle Peter is staying in Joppa on the Mediterranean coast. One noontime Peter goes onto the roof of the house to pray. He is hungry and while he is praying he has a vision of food. He sees a large sheet coming down from the sky, carrying all kinds of creatures that Jewish people were not allowed to eat under the law. With the vision there is a voice “Get up Peter, kill and eat.” Peter objects saying “I have never eaten anything profane or unclean,” to which the voice replies “what God has made clean, you must not call profane.” The whole experience - vision and voice -happens a total of three times. This primes Peter for what is coming next. Peter’s prayer time is interrupted. There is a knock at the door, when he looks he sees three men. These men have been sent by a Roman Centurion, Cornelius, who lives in Caesarea. Cornelius is a good, God-fearing man. He has also received a vision, from the angel of God, telling him to summon Peter. And so he has sent his servants. There is one problem: Cornelius and his household are Gentiles. The men are uncircumcised and they do not observe Jewish dietary laws. Jews, like Peter would not normally give or receive hospitality from such Gentiles. In spite of this, Peter invites the men in. He says “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” The men stay overnight and then travel together to Caesarea to meet Cornelius and his family. Here Peter preaches his now familiar sermon on the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. He invites the family to believe in Jesus and receive the forgiveness of sins. Peter does not get to complete his sermon. The Holy Spirit interrupts, yet again, falling on the people so that they speak in tongues, praising God. At this Peter proclaims “can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit?” and he baptizes them all in the name of Jesus Christ. We may be inclined to put this passage aside as one of those strange Bible stories that doesn’t mean much in today’s world. And yet, this episode describes a major and incredibly significant event in the life of the early church. Up until this point, the apostles have been requiring Gentile converts to undergo circumcision and observe Jewish dietary laws. This is likely a major impediment to conversion. When Peter returns to Jerusalem he confidently tells the other apostles what has happened. They are shocked that Peter even associated with these Gentiles, never mind that he has baptized them. They ask “Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?” But, when they hear the story of the visions and the dramatic interruptions of the Spirit of God, they are amazed. They cannot deny that God has spoken, even to Gentiles. An enormous barrier to membership melts away. The church universal has begun. Peter’s visions and the Apostles’ reactions focus on the thing at the heart of the matter: food and hospitality. Peter gave and received hospitality to and from the Gentiles. What is more, he ate their food, whatever they were serving that day. He abandoned his culturally ingrained customs and religious regulations to expand the community of Christ. And doing so, he drew the circle much wider than it had been drawn before. The apostles are rightly disturbed, because they know that when people gather at a table, boundaries come down. Change happens. Peter and the Gentiles come together like a family that has been estranged. There is joy in the celebration. Those who were once “them” and “us” are now simply one family. They literally meet at the lunch table. Just this past week, I had another conversation with Will, the spouse of one of our members. You may remember that Will has begun a chapter of the “Coming to the Table” organization here in Quincy. This is the first such group in New England. Coming to the Table is an organization formed by descendants from two American families: the Hairstons and the descendants of Thomas Jefferson. [1] In both cases, black and white descendants have come together through family reunions. Jefferson’s family is directly descended from both his white wife, Martha, and the black mother of his children, who was enslaved on his plantation, Sally Hemings. “Coming to the Table” facilitates conversation about the deep history of slavery and racism in the United States: these the things that estranged these family members from one another. Whenever an estranged family reunites, there is a need to talk about things. It is necessary to confess hurts and to make amends. “Coming to the Table” provides for this conversation, figuratively at the table, by having individuals speak from their own experiences. Participants do not try to change or fix anyone else, but they work on their own personal barriers to reconciliation with “the other”. This requires honesty, vulnerability and work. Even if we are unaware of any connections we might have with those who enslaved Africans and other people of color, anyone who lives in our culture is a part of this division between “them” and “us.” Racial divides are not the only divisions in our culture. We are also divided by politics, abilities and disabilities, sexual orientation and gender identity, even religious differences. When someone appears different from us in any of these ways, they become “the other” in our minds. Earlier today, we talked about the history of our church, and how the church was founded following a split from the Wollaston Baptist Church. I imagine that the real reason for the split was because the former Congregationalists wanted their own church home with their own practices and customs. This kind of has split happened often, as well as new immigrant groups coming in, giving rise to a huge number of protestant denominations in the United States. People in this community who are curious about belonging to a church have a plethora of offerings. They can afford to be picky, choosing the one church that has just the right fit for their beliefs, their preferences in music, or their family’s needs. To be truthful, I don’t think this number of options serves Christ’s purposes for the global church. When small churches operate independently and in competition with one another they limit their ability to make God’s love and justice known in the community. Still, I remember going through a similar process when I moved away from home to college far from my home in suburban London. When I found churches that sang the same hymns, served the same food, preached the same kind of sermons as I was used to, I felt at home. These churches did their evangelism through food offered to hungry students. And it often worked. But the Holy Spirit wouldn’t let me stay at the homey kinds of church I found. It would be years before I understood what true inclusion means, but I was prodded and pushed to a different kind of church. This was a merged congregation of Methodists, one of my “home” traditions, and the United Reformed Church. Yes, they were Congregationalists! To be truthful, the food they served at this church was really good too. And these church families invited students home to eat with them as well. But the overlap of the traditions meant that the preaching pushed and provoked me. I often pushed back. This was exactly the kind of place I needed to grow. It is my hope that Wollaston Congregational Church can be a place of belonging for us, and at the same time be a place when we encounter “the other” at our table and at theirs. I hope that we can explore other customs and traditions in our worship, remembering that the Spirit of God is always interrupting, pushing and prodding us to grow. When I talked with Will, we discussed beginning a kind of “Coming to the Table” group for our church and community. The thought was for a series of meetings to sit down and talk about the things that separate us from one another and from the people in our community. Things like political differences, race, disabilities, sexual orientation and gender identity. Will made the point that just as someone cannot recover from alcoholism by going to AA once, these conversations cannot be done just once. They need to become our practice. I told him I thought that maybe if we begin with 4 or 5 meetings people may enjoy them and want to come back. Will smiled and said that “enjoy” might not be the best word, but perhaps people would value the meetings. I believe he is right, I do hope we can do this, I hope you will come to the table and I hope you will value the conversation. And so, may the active Holy Spirit prod, push and cajole us, as necessary, to come to the table with those who seem different from us. so that the church universal may be more fully realized in this place. And perhaps so that all humanity will be invited into the ever-widening circle of grace that Jesus Christ himself draws. May all God’s people say: Amen. [1] https://comingtothetable.org/
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What is to Keep Me From Being Baptized? Nothing, Nothing At All Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday May 2nd, 2021 Scripture: Acts 11:1-18 What is to keep me from being baptized? Nothing, nothing at all. This morning we heard a weird and wonderful story, about the Apostle Philip, a traveling eunuch from Ethiopia, and God’s Spirit. We haven’t heard much about Philip, so far, either in the gospel of Luke or the book of Acts. He seems to have been a quiet disciple, traveling and learning with Jesus, but not getting much of the limelight. Now, though, Philip seems to come into his own. The apostles have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. They’ve been sent to be Christ’s witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Philip, as a Greek speaking Jew, has been appointed to care for the members of the community in need who are also Greek speaking. He has also traveled to Samaria to preach the gospel and began a mission there. Now, the angel of God sends him to the desert road that runs from Jerusalem to Gaza. We have to imagine that Philip is quite athletic. I picture him sprinting for miles along this parched and dusty desert road. The Spirit prompts him to catch up with a chariot carrying an official of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. This man, we are told, is a eunuch and he has been in Jerusalem to worship. He is reading from the scroll of Isaiah out loud, as was typical in ancient times. Having caught up with the chariot, Philip is not too winded to jog along and converse with the man. The eunuch does not understand what he is reading and needs some help. Finally he invites Philip to get into the chariot with him and interpret the scripture for him. It is notable that the eunuch is reading from the prophet Isaiah, who speaks tenderly to those who may feel like outcasts from the mainstream religion. The eunuch is not reading the books of law, like Deuteronomy, that declare that “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deut 23:1) He is reading Servant Song of Isaiah that proclaims that “eunuchs who keep [God’s] Sabbaths” will be welcome in the house of God and will receive “a name better than sons and daughters.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) And the passage the Ethiopian is reading right now says “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Philip explains to the man that, for the followers of Christ, this passage has been related to Jesus himself. Jesus is seen as the suffering servant who identities with the suffering and the outcast, and so shows God’s great love for them. While the law determines who is in and who is out, the prophet simply expands the circle of who is in. Jesus stood in the position of anyone who might be considered “out”, so that his followers would be compelled to expand their circle to take them in. The Spirit of Christ is already present with the Ethiopian eunuch through the words of Isaiah. Now, he wants to be “in” with this infant sect of Judaism that will become Christianity. Low and behold the chariot reaches a place where there is water, and so he asks Philip: “What is to keep me from being baptized?” Nothing, nothing at all. They come down from the chariot and Philip takes the man to the waters of baptism. This morning a young woman came to the waters of baptism right here during our worship service. When this young woman first approached me and we began a conversation about her baptism, around Christmas time, the question was not posed in the negative. Rather it was something like “how might I be baptized?” The one thing in the way was the pandemic. We discussed a virtual baptism, one in which I would say the words and lead the prayers over Zoom, and maybe her partner would administer the water to her at home. We decided against that, though, in favor of waiting a while so that we could do a real in-person, hands on baptism. What qualifies our baptismal candidates to be baptized? Basically a desire to be baptized, or in the case of an infant the desire of their parent. It takes a short while to go through the promises of baptism, and for the candidate to decide whether they want to make those promises. Usually, by the time someone has approached me, they have already made up their mind. This is what they want. I think one of the reasons why each baptism fills us with so much hope, is that we are encouraged by new people coming to faith. We are moved by their willingness to join us in Christ’s family, even when that family has shown itself to be imperfect in so many ways. These days, the question “what is to keep me from being baptized?” might be answered simply “the Church.” Philip showed an extravagant welcome by including a man who, according to the law, was excluded from the house of God. Philip heeded Isaiah over Deuteronomy, he expanded who is “in” over deciding who is “out.” This decision surely began to shape the church of Jesus Christ in new exciting ways. It expanded the church to “the ends of the earth” places like northern Africa to include people who looked quite different from the Jerusalem Jews. The Church has not always done well with this, though. Over centuries we’ve created systems and structures around our beloved sacraments. Churches say things like “when you understand, then you can receive communion” or “when you’ve turned your heart over to Jesus Christ, then you can be baptized.” In the early 90’s I traveled with my husband to Seattle Washington to visit my great uncle, George Barry. He was my grandmother’s beloved younger brother and they exchange correspondence regularly across the miles, in little blue airmail envelopes, until the end of their lives. Uncle GB had reputation in the family for being a rebel. I was intrigued to meet him. During the wartime, GB had befriended Italian prisoners of war who were commissioned to work the farm in our home village. And he brought some of these prisoners home for tea with my great-grandmother on a regular basis. I suspect she was also something of a rebel. I’ve been told that for years after the prisoners returned home to Italy, one of them would write to my great grandmother, addressing her as “my English mother.” Shortly after the end of World War II Uncle GB left the United Kingdom to start a new life on the West Coast of the United States. Uncle George Barry, told me that he had always been open and inclusive of every kind of person. Since the 1950’s he had developed wide circle of friends in Seattle, including many people of color and from all walks of life. If he were alive today he may say that he had no racism in him at all. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uncle GB actually had a gift for seeking out those, like the Ethiopian eunuch, who did not fit in. After all, he had some experience with not fitting in. Although he never officially came out to the family, it was clear that he was gay. When I visited he was living very happily with his partner, John. I’ve told you before, that I experienced a strong sense of belonging in the village Methodist chapel, where I grew up. Uncle GB told me he did not have fond memories of that same chapel. Of course, he was there a couple of generations before me, when the Methodists’ attitude was much stricter than in my time. Still, he experienced a feeling of being “out” while I experienced a feeling of being “in.” It was an oppressive environment for him. I realized that my place of belonging looked different through GB’s eyes. I wondered what church had looked like for my Sunday School friends, Mike and Devon, who came out as gay later in life. Their sense of belonging in the chapel I loved may not have been as straight forward as mine. I’m proud that in 2011, Wollaston Congregational Church modified our bylaws to clarify that “Membership is open to all and the church does not discriminate against persons based on race, color, previous religion or denomination, sex, disability, marital status, national origin or ancestry, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression … or any other protected class as designated by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or as determined by the United Church of Christ. But, of course, the work of creating a church where everyone is “in” and no one is “out”, is not only a matter of words. It is an ongoing work, led by the prodding, stirring Holy Spirit, who sends us to uncomfortable places. And so, my friends of this church, as we begin the gradual process of re-gathering in person, may we be reminded that this is our work. We are called like Philip, to hear the Spirit’s prompting, to go to the weird and wild places. To discover that Spirit of Christ has gone there ahead of us. And when someone asks “What is to keep me from being baptized?” may we answer “Nothing … nothing at all.” May all God’s people say, Amen What is to Keep Me From Being Baptized? Nothing, Nothing At All Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday May 2nd, 2021 Scripture: Acts 11:1-18 What is to keep me from being baptized? Nothing, nothing at all. This morning we heard a weird and wonderful story, about the Apostle Philip, a traveling eunuch from Ethiopia, and God’s Spirit. We haven’t heard much about Philip, so far, either in the gospel of Luke or the book of Acts. He seems to have been a quiet disciple, traveling and learning with Jesus, but not getting much of the limelight. Now, though, Philip seems to come into his own. The apostles have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. They’ve been sent to be Christ’s witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Philip, as a Greek speaking Jew, has been appointed to care for the members of the community in need who are also Greek speaking. He has also traveled to Samaria to preach the gospel and began a mission there. Now, the angel of God sends him to the desert road that runs from Jerusalem to Gaza. We have to imagine that Philip is quite athletic. I picture him sprinting for miles along this parched and dusty desert road. The Spirit prompts him to catch up with a chariot carrying an official of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. This man, we are told, is a eunuch and he has been in Jerusalem to worship. He is reading from the scroll of Isaiah out loud, as was typical in ancient times. Having caught up with the chariot, Philip is not too winded to jog along and converse with the man. The eunuch does not understand what he is reading and needs some help. Finally he invites Philip to get into the chariot with him and interpret the scripture for him. It is notable that the eunuch is reading from the prophet Isaiah, who speaks tenderly to those who may feel like outcasts from the mainstream religion. The eunuch is not reading the books of law, like Deuteronomy, that declare that “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deut 23:1) He is reading Servant Song of Isaiah that proclaims that “eunuchs who keep [God’s] Sabbaths” will be welcome in the house of God and will receive “a name better than sons and daughters.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) And the passage the Ethiopian is reading right now says “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Philip explains to the man that, for the followers of Christ, this passage has been related to Jesus himself. Jesus is seen as the suffering servant who identities with the suffering and the outcast, and so shows God’s great love for them. While the law determines who is in and who is out, the prophet simply expands the circle of who is in. Jesus stood in the position of anyone who might be considered “out”, so that his followers would be compelled to expand their circle to take them in. The Spirit of Christ is already present with the Ethiopian eunuch through the words of Isaiah. Now, he wants to be “in” with this infant sect of Judaism that will become Christianity. Low and behold the chariot reaches a place where there is water, and so he asks Philip: “What is to keep me from being baptized?” Nothing, nothing at all. They come down from the chariot and Philip takes the man to the waters of baptism. This morning a young woman came to the waters of baptism right here during our worship service. When this young woman first approached me and we began a conversation about her baptism, around Christmas time, the question was not posed in the negative. Rather it was something like “how might I be baptized?” The one thing in the way was the pandemic. We discussed a virtual baptism, one in which I would say the words and lead the prayers over Zoom, and maybe her partner would administer the water to her at home. We decided against that, though, in favor of waiting a while so that we could do a real in-person, hands on baptism. What qualifies our baptismal candidates to be baptized? Basically a desire to be baptized, or in the case of an infant the desire of their parent. It takes a short while to go through the promises of baptism, and for the candidate to decide whether they want to make those promises. Usually, by the time someone has approached me, they have already made up their mind. This is what they want. I think one of the reasons why each baptism fills us with so much hope, is that we are encouraged by new people coming to faith. We are moved by their willingness to join us in Christ’s family, even when that family has shown itself to be imperfect in so many ways. These days, the question “what is to keep me from being baptized?” might be answered simply “the Church.” Philip showed an extravagant welcome by including a man who, according to the law, was excluded from the house of God. Philip heeded Isaiah over Deuteronomy, he expanded who is “in” over deciding who is “out.” This decision surely began to shape the church of Jesus Christ in new exciting ways. It expanded the church to “the ends of the earth” places like northern Africa to include people who looked quite different from the Jerusalem Jews. The Church has not always done well with this, though. Over centuries we’ve created systems and structures around our beloved sacraments. Churches say things like “when you understand, then you can receive communion” or “when you’ve turned your heart over to Jesus Christ, then you can be baptized.” In the early 90’s I traveled with my husband to Seattle Washington to visit my great uncle, George Barry. He was my grandmother’s beloved younger brother and they exchange correspondence regularly across the miles, in little blue airmail envelopes, until the end of their lives. Uncle GB had reputation in the family for being a rebel. I was intrigued to meet him. During the wartime, GB had befriended Italian prisoners of war who were commissioned to work the farm in our home village. And he brought some of these prisoners home for tea with my great-grandmother on a regular basis. I suspect she was also something of a rebel. I’ve been told that for years after the prisoners returned home to Italy, one of them would write to my great grandmother, addressing her as “my English mother.” Shortly after the end of World War II Uncle GB left the United Kingdom to start a new life on the West Coast of the United States. Uncle George Barry, told me that he had always been open and inclusive of every kind of person. Since the 1950’s he had developed wide circle of friends in Seattle, including many people of color and from all walks of life. If he were alive today he may say that he had no racism in him at all. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uncle GB actually had a gift for seeking out those, like the Ethiopian eunuch, who did not fit in. After all, he had some experience with not fitting in. Although he never officially came out to the family, it was clear that he was gay. When I visited he was living very happily with his partner, John. I’ve told you before, that I experienced a strong sense of belonging in the village Methodist chapel, where I grew up. Uncle GB told me he did not have fond memories of that same chapel. Of course, he was there a couple of generations before me, when the Methodists’ attitude was much stricter than in my time. Still, he experienced a feeling of being “out” while I experienced a feeling of being “in.” It was an oppressive environment for him. I realized that my place of belonging looked different through GB’s eyes. I wondered what church had looked like for my Sunday School friends, Mark and Debbie, who came out as gay later in life. Their sense of belonging in the chapel I loved may not have been as straight forward as mine. I’m proud that in 2011, Wollaston Congregational Church modified our bylaws to clarify that “Membership is open to all and the church does not discriminate against persons based on race, color, previous religion or denomination, sex, disability, marital status, national origin or ancestry, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression … or any other protected class as designated by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or as determined by the United Church of Christ. But, of course, the work of creating a church where everyone is “in” and no one is “out”, is not only a matter of words. It is an ongoing work, led by the prodding, stirring Holy Spirit, who sends us to uncomfortable places. And so, my friends of this church, as we begin the gradual process of re-gathering in person, may we be reminded that this is our work. We are called like Philip, to hear the Spirit’s prompting, to go to the weird and wild places. To discover that Spirit of Christ has gone there ahead of us. And when someone asks “What is to keep me from being baptized?” may we answer “Nothing … nothing at all.” May all God’s people say, Amen What is to Keep Me From Being Baptized? Nothing, Nothing At All Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Sunday May 2nd, 2021 Scripture: Acts 11:1-18 What is to keep me from being baptized? Nothing, nothing at all. This morning we heard a weird and wonderful story, about the Apostle Philip, a traveling eunuch from Ethiopia, and God’s Spirit. We haven’t heard much about Philip, so far, either in the gospel of Luke or the book of Acts. He seems to have been a quiet disciple, traveling and learning with Jesus, but not getting much of the limelight. Now, though, Philip seems to come into his own. The apostles have received the gift of the Holy Spirit. They’ve been sent to be Christ’s witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Philip, as a Greek speaking Jew, has been appointed to care for the members of the community in need who are also Greek speaking. He has also traveled to Samaria to preach the gospel and began a mission there. Now, the angel of God sends him to the desert road that runs from Jerusalem to Gaza. We have to imagine that Philip is quite athletic. I picture him sprinting for miles along this parched and dusty desert road. The Spirit prompts him to catch up with a chariot carrying an official of the Queen of Ethiopia’s treasury. This man, we are told, is a eunuch and he has been in Jerusalem to worship. He is reading from the scroll of Isaiah out loud, as was typical in ancient times. Having caught up with the chariot, Philip is not too winded to jog along and converse with the man. The eunuch does not understand what he is reading and needs some help. Finally he invites Philip to get into the chariot with him and interpret the scripture for him. It is notable that the eunuch is reading from the prophet Isaiah, who speaks tenderly to those who may feel like outcasts from the mainstream religion. The eunuch is not reading the books of law, like Deuteronomy, that declare that “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deut 23:1) He is reading Servant Song of Isaiah that proclaims that “eunuchs who keep [God’s] Sabbaths” will be welcome in the house of God and will receive “a name better than sons and daughters.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) And the passage the Ethiopian is reading right now says “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Philip explains to the man that, for the followers of Christ, this passage has been related to Jesus himself. Jesus is seen as the suffering servant who identities with the suffering and the outcast, and so shows God’s great love for them. While the law determines who is in and who is out, the prophet simply expands the circle of who is in. Jesus stood in the position of anyone who might be considered “out”, so that his followers would be compelled to expand their circle to take them in. The Spirit of Christ is already present with the Ethiopian eunuch through the words of Isaiah. Now, he wants to be “in” with this infant sect of Judaism that will become Christianity. Low and behold the chariot reaches a place where there is water, and so he asks Philip: “What is to keep me from being baptized?” Nothing, nothing at all. They come down from the chariot and Philip takes the man to the waters of baptism. This morning a young woman came to the waters of baptism right here during our worship service. When this young woman first approached me and we began a conversation about her baptism, around Christmas time, the question was not posed in the negative. Rather it was something like “how might I be baptized?” The one thing in the way was the pandemic. We discussed a virtual baptism, one in which I would say the words and lead the prayers over Zoom, and maybe her partner would administer the water to her at home. We decided against that, though, in favor of waiting a while so that we could do a real in-person, hands on baptism. What qualifies our baptismal candidates to be baptized? Basically a desire to be baptized, or in the case of an infant the desire of their parent. It takes a short while to go through the promises of baptism, and for the candidate to decide whether they want to make those promises. Usually, by the time someone has approached me, they have already made up their mind. This is what they want. I think one of the reasons why each baptism fills us with so much hope, is that we are encouraged by new people coming to faith. We are moved by their willingness to join us in Christ’s family, even when that family has shown itself to be imperfect in so many ways. These days, the question “what is to keep me from being baptized?” might be answered simply “the Church.” Philip showed an extravagant welcome by including a man who, according to the law, was excluded from the house of God. Philip heeded Isaiah over Deuteronomy, he expanded who is “in” over deciding who is “out.” This decision surely began to shape the church of Jesus Christ in new exciting ways. It expanded the church to “the ends of the earth” places like northern Africa to include people who looked quite different from the Jerusalem Jews. The Church has not always done well with this, though. Over centuries we’ve created systems and structures around our beloved sacraments. Churches say things like “when you understand, then you can receive communion” or “when you’ve turned your heart over to Jesus Christ, then you can be baptized.” In the early 90’s I traveled with my husband to Seattle Washington to visit my great uncle, George Barry. He was my grandmother’s beloved younger brother and they exchange correspondence regularly across the miles, in little blue airmail envelopes, until the end of their lives. Uncle GB had reputation in the family for being a rebel. I was intrigued to meet him. During the wartime, GB had befriended Italian prisoners of war who were commissioned to work the farm in our home village. And he brought some of these prisoners home for tea with my great-grandmother on a regular basis. I suspect she was also something of a rebel. I’ve been told that for years after the prisoners returned home to Italy, one of them would write to my great grandmother, addressing her as “my English mother.” Shortly after the end of World War II Uncle GB left the United Kingdom to start a new life on the West Coast of the United States. Uncle George Barry, told me that he had always been open and inclusive of every kind of person. Since the 1950’s he had developed wide circle of friends in Seattle, including many people of color and from all walks of life. If he were alive today he may say that he had no racism in him at all. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Uncle GB actually had a gift for seeking out those, like the Ethiopian eunuch, who did not fit in. After all, he had some experience with not fitting in. Although he never officially came out to the family, it was clear that he was gay. When I visited he was living very happily with his partner, John. I’ve told you before, that I experienced a strong sense of belonging in the village Methodist chapel, where I grew up. Uncle GB told me he did not have fond memories of that same chapel. Of course, he was there a couple of generations before me, when the Methodists’ attitude was much stricter than in my time. Still, he experienced a feeling of being “out” while I experienced a feeling of being “in.” It was an oppressive environment for him. I realized that my place of belonging looked different through GB’s eyes. I wondered what church had looked like for my Sunday School friends, Mark and Debbie, who came out as gay later in life. Their sense of belonging in the chapel I loved may not have been as straight forward as mine. I’m proud that in 2011, Wollaston Congregational Church modified our bylaws to clarify that “Membership is open to all and the church does not discriminate against persons based on race, color, previous religion or denomination, sex, disability, marital status, national origin or ancestry, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression … or any other protected class as designated by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or as determined by the United Church of Christ. But, of course, the work of creating a church where everyone is “in” and no one is “out”, is not only a matter of words. It is an ongoing work, led by the prodding, stirring Holy Spirit, who sends us to uncomfortable places. And so, my friends of this church, as we begin the gradual process of re-gathering in person, may we be reminded that this is our work. We are called like Philip, to hear the Spirit’s prompting, to go to the weird and wild places. To discover that Spirit of Christ has gone there ahead of us. And when someone asks “What is to keep me from being baptized?” may we answer “Nothing … nothing at all.” May all God’s people say, Amen https://www.waterwomensalliance.org/july-august-ritual-hand-in-hand-by-diann-l-neu/ Comforting or Stirring? Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church on April 25th, 2021 Scripture: Acts 4:5-12 This Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Easter, is traditionally known as “Good Shepherd Sunday.” In our scripture from John’s gospel we heard Jesus say “I am the Good Shepherd” and we listened to the words of the famous 23rd psalm “The Lord is my Shepherd.” These are texts that of bring words of comfort to those who follow Jesus, the Good Shepherd. Also we read the assigned scripture from the book of Acts. In this week’s passage, Peter and John are brought before the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem, the religious authorities. This is the same council that handed Jesus over to be crucified. The council is angry that the apostles were preaching, teaching and healing in Jesus’ name. Even though they have the power to convict, as they did with Jesus, Peter responds with a stirring speech, telling them that Jesus, the stone who was rejected, lives on. He has become the chief cornerstone of the movement that will become the church. This morning, we are presented with images of comfort and stirring. And as I committed to last week, I will continue to follow the book of Acts in this Easter season. We encounter Peter and John again, just a few days after the festival Pentecost, 50 days after the Passover on which Jesus was crucified. Even though very little time has passed, Peter has been preaching, teaching and now healing in Jerusalem. So far they have received more than 8,000 new believers. The high priests, Annas and Caiaphas, may have assumed that the Jesus movement had been stamped out, but they are wrong. The Holy Spirit is swirling through Jerusalem, and people are getting stirred up. We might wonder where Peter and John are finding the strength to head up this new movement of the Spirit, this new normal. It has been only a few weeks since they went through the trauma of seeing their beloved leader being crucified. It’s been only a few weeks since Peter was so scared he’d denied knowing his beloved teacher and friend. Perhaps Peter and John have had some time for rest in this hiatus between Jewish festivals. Perhaps there have been a few moments when they sat, again, at Jesus’ feet since he returned in resurrected form. Perhaps seeing Jesus ascend to the Father helped to restore their faith, following the harrowing scenes of violence and abuse during the earlier trial and crucifixion. Somehow, they have built up resilience, such that they are now brave enough to stand in front of the same council that handed Jesus over. And Peter finds the courage and resilience --- not only to defend himself and John --- but to preach in the name of Jesus of Nazareth. It’s been eleven months since George Floyd was killed in Minneapolis. And since that time, according to Newsweek magazine, 181 black Americans have been killed by police. We don’t know the details of all these deaths, but we do know that the killing of people of color by law enforcement is greatly out of proportion with the killing of white people. [1] We know about the killing of Daunte Wright, also in Minneapolis, and Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia, we know about the killing of Breonna Taylor, we know about 13 year old Adam Toledo in Chicago. We know about many more. I wonder, in the wake ongoing racial trauma for the African American community, how people find the strength to keep on organizing, advocating and protesting. And yet the family and friends of George Floyd and so many other activists have worked tirelessly to keep attention on this issue. A small victory came this past week, when former police officer Derek Chauvin was found guilty and held accountable for the murder of George Floyd. One person wrote “the arc bent a millimeter today” a reference to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who said “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” [2] The event of George Floyd’s killing sparked protests throughout the United States and around the world. Citizens of majority white and western countries began to hold their own authorities accountable too. And in sports like European soccer, players have begun to take a knee and a moment of silence before games to draw attention to the “Black Lives Matter” movement. I know that my own inclination is to pay attention to racial justice and equity for a while. But then, I become overwhelmed, I get weary or I get stressed. I have to acknowledge, though, that is not too hard for me to engage with the issues of racism in our culture, and I am called to do it. The issue is, I need to work on my resilience. Over the past couple of months, the Massachusetts Council of Churches has been sharing Facebook live conversations around issues of racism and sexism. The titles of these conversations included: “The Black Church and Politics”, “What Male Colleagues Need to Know” and one conversation I knew I needed to listen to: “What White Woman Need to Know.” [3] This conversation hit home for me, as I suspected it would. There were truths that I needed to hear, even though they were difficult to listen to. Rev. Dr. Choi Hee An, a Korean woman professor of theology and Rev. Dr. Karen Coleman, a black American Episcopal priest and academic, joined the conversation with Rev. Laura Everett, to speak of their own experiences with white women. These were not comfortable truths: white women in the church have not always been their friends and allies. They spoke of white women’s resistance to having conversations about equality. They notice that white women’s body language shows they are disengaging when the conversation gets tough. They say things like “this stresses me out,” or “this gives me a headache.” The two women spoke of the disingenuous “niceness” of white women. White women have acted as their friends, but then have not been loyal to that supposed friendship. White women who have presumed familiarity by asking them inappropriate questions. Hearing these truths, I knew I had been guilty of all these things in my attempts to engage, and then disengage with the topic of racial justice. This was a reminder that even though I’ve done some work on my resilience, I have not done enough. I need to keep going. In a few minutes we will watch excerpts from a video concerning two churches and their engagement with the issues of racism in our culture today. Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ in Sherborn was my home church for many years before I came to Wollaston. Pilgrim Church has been in relationship and conversation with Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Jamaica Plain since 1992. [4] Sherborn is a very different setting from Wollaston. Pilgrim Church has a different history and different resources. And the issues of racism in Quincy are different from Boston and the suburbs, with more of a focus on anti-Asian racism. Still, I believe we can learn from this video that witnesses a relationship between these majority white and a majority black churches in Greater Boston. In this Easter season as we anticipate the coming of the Holy Spirit yet again, we might ask “will that Spirit be one of comfort or stirring?” There is a saying that the Spirit “afflicts the comfortable and comforts the afflicted.” But this saying does not address the complexity of life. In reality no one is entirely comfortable, and few are entirely afflicted. I imagine that in our times the Spirit is both comforting and stirring for a purpose. This purpose is to build up our resilience to do the work of Christ in the time to come, the new normal. In this year of pandemic trauma and the stirring of anti-racism activism in our culture, we are called to seek resilience. We are called to ponder ways in which even in our setting, we, Wollaston Congregational Church, can grow in our engagement with the issues of the day. We can be grateful that we are not called before the Sanhedrin, like Peter and John. And, still, the spirit is stirring us to tell the truth about our relationship with Christ and with one another. In the video, Witness, Rev. Gloria White Hammond, pastor of the Bethel Afrian American Episcopal church, says that it is important to advocate for justice on a public level and yet … “ … [the] even harder work is to look at me and where is the ‘ism’ in me.” This is work that we can do, Church. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.newsweek.com/181-black-people-have-been-killed-police-since-george-floyds-death-1584740 [2] Dr. King was paraphrasing a quote of Unitarian minister, Rev. Theodor Parker, https://www.uuworld.org/articles/parker-radical-theologian [3] https://www.facebook.com/Masscouncilofchurches [4] https://www.sneucc.org/newsdetail/spotlight-witness-15202389 “We all” are Complicit Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On April 18th, 2021 Scripture: Acts 3:12-21 Today we begin something I’ve put off for too long. Each Easter season – these 50 days between Christ’s resurrection and his ascension back to God the Father – the Lectionary offers a selection of readings from the book of Acts. Most years, I have considered doing a series of sermons on Acts and then I’ve changed my mind. Acts is a strange biblical book, which doesn’t quite fit into any of the usual categories. It is not a part of the Torah, or Jewish law. It is not a prophetic writing or poetic wisdom literature. It is not exactly “gospel” because it describes events that take place after Jesus’s life, and it is not a letter from an evangelist to the early church. Scholars agree that the author of Luke’s gospel also wrote Acts. This is affirmed by the flow between the two books. Acts is a story of the very early followers of Jesus, including the ones who were disciples at Jesus’s side during his lifetime. The events described in Acts take place in turbulent times. The story begins in Jerusalem only 50 days after Jesus’ crucifixion. Many supposed enemies of Rome, as well as petty criminals, are executed on crosses. Crucifixion is the mode of execution favored by the Roman occupiers of ancient Israel, because it is visibly agonizing. Not many years later, the tension in Jerusalem will erupt with the destruction of the temple and the genocide of many Jewish people. Somehow the early followers of Jesus live through these times. They ultimately differentiate themselves from other Jewish groups, and begin to spread through Asia Minor, converting both Jewish and Gentiles to “the way” of Jesus Christ. The story we heard this morning takes place very soon after the coming of the Holy Spirit, while many Jews are still gathered in Jerusalem for the feast of Pentecost or Shavuot. As we heard from Mary’s reading, Peter and John, have just healed a lame man as they were on their way to pray at the temple. There is quite a commotion in Solomon’s Porch where the healing took place. Seeing the crowd, Peter takes the opportunity to deliver one of his five sermons in the book of Acts. This is one of the reasons I have decided against preaching on the story in the past. But this year, I’m going to do it. This is the kind of biblical passage that has been used for centuries to “blame” the Jewish people for Jesus’ crucifixion. I hesitate to preach on passages like this one, because I’m concerned about our initial response. We hear scripture with 21st century ears, not knowing that we are influenced by those centuries of Christian anti-Semitism. And yet, if we look a little more closely we will discover something in Peter’s sermon that is quite different from an accusation against the Jews. Peter begins “You Israelites …” Even though he begins with the word “you”, Peter and the other apostles are Jewish, Jesus was Jewish, and all those crowded around him in the porch are Jewish. This might as well be a speech that begins with the words “My fellow Americans …” Peter tells the assembled crowd that the healing of the man has been done by the power of the God of Israel, of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and all their ancestors. Their God has also glorified Jesus, the one who was so recently crucified, because, he says, they “rejected” him. Of all the people in the crowd, the one who is known to have rejected Jesus is actually Peter. The word rejected is better translated as “disowned.” This is the same word that is used to describe Peter’s denial of Jesus on the night of his arrest. No doubt the painful memory of denying that he knew Jesus three times that night, is fresh in Peter’s mind. Peter is not singling out anyone in the crowd to blame for the crucifixion. He is using the plural “you all” or even “we all.” He also tells the crowd good news. Even though Peter was totally complicit in the rejection or disowning of Jesus, he has been forgiven and restored. He is even given the position of leadership in the new movement that is being birthed. And so he invites those gathered to do the same as him. He invites them to repent from their communal complicity in disowning Jesus. And he invites them to look forward to a time of universal restoration. Sadly, we humans seem to have an incurable tendency to blame. And conversely, we have a tendency to interpret a call for accountability as blame. Looking at the scripture through a lens of blame, we will probably see only two options. Either Peter is blaming “the Jews” for Jesus’ crucifixion. Or with the inclusive “you all”, or even “we all”, he is blaming us. Seeing the crucifixion through the lens of blame has a lot to do with the way different branches of Christianity have dealt with it. Evangelical Christians have tended to focus the blame and the need for repentance on the individual. And mainline Protestants like ourselves, have rejected that notion, but still tend to avoid our own communal complicity and accountability. When I was in college, I was loosely connected with an evangelical Christian organization. This group sponsored a week-long mission, in which they invited a number of persuasive speakers to preach in the largest auditorium on campus. On the night that I attended, I was stunned by what I heard the preacher say. He described the crucifixion of Jesus in excruciating detail: each nail going in through flesh and bone, the process of asphyxiation on the cross. Once he had completed the horrific details of execution, he pivoted to the reason for the crucifixion in cosmic terms. This was consistent with the substitutionary atonement theory favored by conservative traditions. Substitutionary atonement says that because God is purely good and just, God must be paid a price for human sin. And because God did not want to punish us, he sent his own son, Jesus, to bear the punishment and to be sacrificed on the cross. Substitutionary atonement says that Jesus “paid the price for our sin” on the cross. In the auditorium that night, the preacher told us that every sin, every little thing that we had ever done, everything about which we felt guilt or shame, drove another nail into Jesus’ hands and feet. The only response to this was for each individual person to repent and believe, to confess Jesus their personal Lord and Savior. Then, and only then, would our sin and shame be forgiven. Then and only then will we be sure to avoid damnation. I began to sweat and hairs prickled on the back of my neck. I felt as though the preacher could see into my soul and read every less than holy thought. It was painful to imagine that I had caused Jesus’s pain on the cross, and at the same time I knew I did not need to do anything else to become a Christian. I had already been baptized and confirmed as a member of Christ’s family. I knew I wasn’t perfect, but I also knew just enough to perceive this sermon as a guilt trip. Of course, we all do things that need to be confessed. We all need to make amends and turn back toward God. But the kind of spectacle I witnessed in the auditorium that night focuses all the attention on the individual and their behavior. That perspective sets us on a path of sin and shame, followed by confession and forgiveness: rinse and repeat. In this approach, the need for communal confession and repentance is forgotten. On the other hand, mainline churches like ours also have a problem in our approach to the cross. Many of us dislike the notion of substitutionary atonement but we also do not like the part that is missing: communal confession and repentance. We avoid individual confession and at the same time avoid accountability for our complicity. I knew a woman, named Joan, in my home UCC church, who complained about the prayer of corporate confession in our weekly Order of Worship. “I am a good person,” she argued, “I care for the sick and the poor, I’m kind and generous. I don’t like being required to confess.” Joan was, indeed, a good and kind person. She went out of her way to care for others. She drove church members to medical appointments. She visited the sick and the dying even in the most awkward and unpleasant circumstances. She gave generously to the church and other organizations. But Joan was forgetting her complicity in the culture. She was forgetting that she, and you and I, are a part of “you all” and “we all.” Current day Christians remember that we were not around 2,000 years ago to crucify Jesus. But we are reluctant to confess our complicity in a culture that crucifies people in our own time and place. Our black, brown, Asian neighbors are experiencing violence in our culture and even execution in some circumstances. White mainline protestants were reluctant to confess the racism of the culture and stand with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in the time of the civil rights movement. Perhaps many lives would have been spared, if we had fully supported the movement, not only in marching together, but challenging our own assumptions about race. We, mainline protestants have been reluctant to challenge our own assumptions about race, in case we find something shameful in ourselves. We prefer to stay out of the fray, and blame others for acts of violence against black, indigenous and people of color. On the one hand we dismiss the idea that our small indiscretions may add a nail to the crucifixion of Jesus. And on the other, we avoid the larger issue of corporate complicity. We avoid the “you all” and the “we all” of Peter’s speech. May we remember, though that Peter’s speech does not end with “you all” and “we all.” This is why I had Mary read extra verses from our text this week. Peter invites the crowd to repent and turn toward God. He reminds them that they can be restored, like the lame man. They can even play a part of God’s universal restoration for humanity and the world. If Peter’s complicity in disowning Jesus can be wiped out, so that he can assume leadership of the early church, so too can our complicity be wiped out. First we face it, first we address it, and then we turn toward God. If we do that we put ourselves in a position to be restored, to stand with our neighbors, even those being crucified in our time. May all God’s say Amen To See and To Be Seen Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church Easter 2021, Sunday April 4th Scripture: John 20:1-18 Rev. Kim Murphy and I arrived at the beach, while was still a little dark. In the pre-dawn light the Quincy Point Congregation and those of us from Wollaston trod carefully down the rough stones steps onto the beach. And we stood on the dry sand, scatters with broken shells and pebbles. There was a faint smell of salt in the chilly air. We took in the quiet of pre-dawn, the birds just beginning to wake, a little traffic passing by. This is a thin place – the beach at sunrise – a place in which heaven and earth seem to meet. In our scripture reading this morning we heard “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb …” The tomb is not on a beach, but in a garden. The smells are the pre-dawn smells of earth and vegetation. The flowers have not yet opened to release their scents. The sounds, still, are the birds beginning to stir. There is damp earth, instead of dry sand, beneath Mary’s feet. We do not know if the sunrise will be visible from this place. This setting will be a thin place for Mary, because it is a place where heaven and earth certainly meet on this first Easter morning. According to John, on this morning after the Sabbath and following the crucifixion, Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb alone, while it is still dark. It is still dark, because Jesus is understood to be dead and gone. It is still dark, because Mary, with all the disciples, is grieving. It is still dark, because they do not understand what has happened. Mary and the other disciples are traumatized. They witnessed their beloved teacher and leader being tortured and hung until death on a Roman cross. They observed his wounded, lifeless body taken from the cross and sealed in a tomb. And so, at the first opportunity, Mary comes to the tomb: perhaps to grieve, perhaps to spend time alone in prayer. Instead of tranquility, she experiences trauma yet again, when she discovers that the tomb is has been broken open and Jesus’ body is gone. She is distraught and runs to meet Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved, telling them that the body is gone. Peter and the other disciple come running to the tomb, they witness its emptiness. They do not understand that Jesus must rise from the dead. And so, they leave as rapidly as they had arrived, perhaps in fear. Mary remains alone, weeping outside the tomb. Suddenly she notices two angels inside the tomb, at each end of the place where Jesus was laid. They ask her “woman, why are you weeping?” She repeats what she told the disciples “They have taken away my Lord …” she still believes the body has been stolen. Now, she turns, looking away from the tomb and into the garden. Perhaps the dawn is just beginning. Perhaps the sun is showing its first arc above the horizon. She sees a man, who is Jesus. But she still doesn’t know it. She supposes he is the gardener. He repeats the words of the angels, asking “woman, why are you weeping?” and then “whom are you looking for?” Still she doesn’t perceive … and asks if he has taken the body of her Lord away, where has he laid him? Finally, the sun rises and dawn breaks, the birds break into joyful song, the flowers burst open and releasing their scents. He has seen her before she sees him, and exclaims “Mary!” And she responds “Rabbouni/teacher!” She wants to embrace him, but he will not let her. Instead he instructs her to go tell his “brothers” that he is ascending … to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God. He SENDS her, and because he does, she becomes the first apostle. And so she goes and tells the others, “I have seen the Lord!” The metaphors of light and darkness crop up throughout John’s gospel. These symbols stand for revelation, and for that which is hidden. Jesus, as the light of the world, shines on that which is hidden and reveals it. The passage we read today reveals something that has been hidden in the telling of the gospel. We met Mary Magdalene for the first time only a few verses before this episode. She was among the women who stood at the foot of the cross. And yet, we can see, from this extravagantly told this intimate encounter, that Mary and Jesus know one another very well. He is her beloved Rabbi or teacher. She is his devoted disciple or student. She is from Magdala, on the north shore of the Sea of Galilee, close to Capernaum where Jesus began his ministry. We can assume she has been among the disciples from the beginning. Western Christianity has not been kind to Mary. She has been conflated with the nameless woman who anointed Jesus at Bethany. And that woman has been assumed to be a prostitute. I suspect that this shaming of Mary led to other references to her being edited out of the gospel. I have been curious about Mary Magdalene since I first visited a retreat center named the Hallelujah Farm a few years ago. The Hallelujah Farm is a lovingly restored post and beam farmhouse, sitting in the midst of rolling hills in south-western New Hampshire. In the springtime flowers are bursting and birds are singing. It is the perfect Easter setting. Guests of the retreat center meet for discussion, prayer, and worship in a great room at the end of the farmhouse. This room is named the “Mary Magdalene Chapel.” A huge stone fireplace serves as an altar. On the mantle there is an icon depicting Mary Magdalene resplendent in red. On either side are windows overlooking a meadow and a valley. The whole space is bright and airy, the floor is natural wood, gently polished, with a large circular cutout at the center that contains fine sand. Candles may be set in the sand. And over the course of a retreat, participants create swirls of art in it. The guests gather, seated on chairs or cushions arranged in a circle around the cutout. Whether they are praying or in conversation, everyone is seen and everyone can see everyone else. There are no back rows, no one is hidden. At the doorway to the room, guests are requested to remove their outdoor shoes. Practically speaking this preserves the floor. Spiritually, it is a reminder that those who enter are walking on holy ground. A plaque tells guests that the chapel is dedicated to Mary Magdalene, the first Apostle, fitting for a center named the Hallelujah Farm. The chapel epitomizes the warmth and hospitality of the Farm. The circular arrangement of the space creates an atmosphere of levelness and equality. It is a thin place, in which earth and heaven seem to meet. We are fortunate that the author of John’s gospel placed Mary in the thin place of the garden at dawn. The first person to witness the resurrected Christ cannot be edited out. Light must shine on her. She has been seen here. Perhaps you have seen the picture of African children, sitting on the ground in a large circle. They are bare-footed and they sit with the soles of their feet facing into the circle. There is no space between the feet: the little side-by-side soles form a perfect circle. In the circle each child is seen, and each child sees each of the other children. In the garden Mary “sees the Lord” and equally importantly she is seen. Today we celebrate the first resurrection dawn, with all the joy of Easters past. And still we – Christians – remember that we live in an “already and not yet” time. Jesus has already walked the earth. Christ has already been resurrected and has ascended. Meanwhile, we do not yet live in a world where all God’s children are seen, called by their names, fed, cared for, and know that they are beloved. And so, as we walk away from the garden or the beach, this morning, may we prepare our hearts and minds to see the Jesuses and the Marys in our world. - Perhaps, Jesus literally is the gardener – the immigrant landscaper – who mows and trims all day and returns to his lodgings at night. - Perhaps Mary is the Asian American grandmother, who is beaten in public, and bystanders choose not to see or intervene. - Perhaps Mary is the black American grandmother who fears that the next child to be born will be a boy, destined for the school to prison pipeline. - Perhaps Jesus is the unkempt person, hovering outside the liquor store or hanging on the street corner. - Or perhaps they are the many children, who have been lost to the system, in the chaos of a year of online and hybrid learning. Friends, we will experience the resurrection dawn each time we see and are seen: we are seen by our family or by our neighbors, by those who serve us in the grocery store, the gas station, or the coffee shop. This morning, (in this thin place) may you see the Lord, and may you know that you are seen. And then know that you, apostle, are sent, both to see and to tell “I have seen the Lord!” May it be so, Amen. Preached for the Inter Church Council of North Quincy and Wollaston Good Friday Service Friday, April 2nd, 2021 "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Years (and years) ago, when I was a pre-teen in secondary education, my school would hold a morning assembly several times each week. At that time and in that place, this took the form of a worship service, in which we would sing hymns from our school hymn book and read together prayers from a little blue prayer book taped inside the hymnal. The headmaster frequently led us in a prayer that stays with me to this day. It begins “Into your hands, O God, I commend myself this day.” In my mind this was the perfect prayer to begin a school day. I could pour my pre-teen concerns into those few words: acne, friendships and cliques, the in-crowd and the out-crowd, romantic crushes, and of course the stresses of grades and homework. This was the prayer of my pre-teen self, who did not know what else to pray, and still wanted God to go with her through the school day. The gospel writer, Luke, presents Jesus primarily as faithful to God, his heavenly Father. Jesus is faithful his whole life long … born to a faithful mother, Mary, … and faithful as a child, in the temple, many years before our scene today. Jesus was faithful through the 40 days he spent being tempted wilderness, faithful in his calling to ministry to declare “good news to the poor.” And now he is faithful even in death, as he cries out “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" and breathes his last breath. These are his last words of faith and trust. I am comforted by the thought that perhaps Jesus, also, learned these words as a child, not from a school prayer book, but from Israel’s song book. Jesus is reciting a verse from Psalm 31, a psalm Jesus might have used as a bedtime prayer throughout his life. The entire psalm expresses a deep faithfulness and trust in God: God as our protector, God as our redeemer, God as our refuge. Even though I take comfort from the thought that Jesus and I prayed very similar words as children, Jesus’ trust and faithfulness far exceed my faith. While I cling to the illusion of control, Jesus submits to what must be. He submits what is done to him by a world that would stamp out goodness and innocence. Over this past year of pandemic, we … children, adults, teens, pre-teens … have had much more to worry about than acne, friendships and homework. Children have had their world turned upside down by social isolation, the loss of loved ones, exhausted and anxious parents, online learning frequently without a stable internet or adult support. And many students who relied on school for support and guidance, structure or protection, have been lost in the chaos. Meanwhile, adults and children have gone through the pain of sickness and death, often alone, the stresses of overwhelming responsibilities in their work and family life. The pandemic has revealed much about what is broken in our world, but perhaps the greatest revelation is that our sense of control over our world is an illusion. While Jesus made the choice for faithfulness and trust, we are left with no choice but to trust in God. And so, may we pray together, as Jesus prayed: In times of pain and exhaustion, “into your hands O God.” In times of confession, “into your hands O God.” In times of anxiety, when we want to fall asleep but cant’, “into your hands O God.” In a time of overwhelming responsibility and confusion, “into your hands, O God.” It’s the prayer of a pre-teen who doesn’t know what else to pray. And it’s also the prayer of Jesus, who knows exactly what to pray … “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” The Woman Who Anointed Jesus: Practice Acceptance Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On Palm/Passion Sunday March 28th 2021 Scripture: Mark 14:1-10 Today we reflect on the sixth secret of the Mister Rogers Effect, “Practice Acceptance.” We have also heard a story of an event during Jesus’ last week, before the crucifixion. Once we see the connection between this story and the need for acceptance, we will not be able to un-see it. We will be reminded of the disciples’ failure to truly accept who Jesus was, why he had come, and what would happen to him in Jerusalem. And we’ll reflect on our own struggles with acceptance. Palm or Passion Sunday begins on a high note. The disciples are made hopeful by Jesus’ parade into Jerusalem on a colt, or baby donkey. The entourage that has traveled with Jesus since Galilee, sees the crowds throw their cloaks down in the road as Jesus approaches, giving him the pathway of a king. People from the countryside and locals come out and join the parade, shouting “Hosanna, save us now! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” The movement is gathering support, and Jesus’ popularity is increasing. His followers must be feeling confident about the week ahead, when Jerusalem will be packed to overflowing for the Feast of the Passover. The hopes for liberation will ring out loud and clear, and Jesus will be at the front, leading the charge. Or at least that is what they think. Memories of Jesus’ predictions of his suffering and death are fading away. Surely he didn’t mean it. Perhaps he just brought that up when he was feeling low. Now, he must be encouraged by the crowd. Now, surely he, too, is feeling confident that his mission will work out perfectly! Jesus spends the week traveling into Jerusalem, teaching in the temple, engaging in heated conversation with the scribes and Rabbis, and on one occasion making something of a ruckus. Each night the group retires to the village of Bethany, walking 2 miles up the south-eastern slope of the Mount of Olives. They stay with friends, eating together each evening and sharing stories. As the days go by, it seems that the religious elites are becoming more and more concerned about the influence of Jesus and his followers on the crowds in the city. A sinister atmosphere begins to develop. In today’s gospel reading we hear that two nights before the Passover, “the chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him.” On that same night, Jesus and his followers dine in the home of Simon the leper. In the middle of the meal while Jesus is sitting at the table, a woman comes in with a surprising gift. It is an alabaster jar, filled with a very costly lotion, called nard. She breaks open the jar and pours the amber colored aromatic oil over Jesus’ head. Other gospels tell us that the aroma fills the whole house. The other disciples are angry at this outburst, complaining that it is a waste. They could have sold the nard, and given the money for the poor. But Jesus says "Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her." The mood of the group changes dramatically. One disciple, Judas Iscariot, can’t get over his anger at what the woman has done. Outwardly, he complains with the others about the waste. Inwardly he is disappointed by the turn of events. If this is how Jesus is going to play things, Judas is done with him. Rather than wait to be arrested with Jesus and the rest of the group, Judas goes to the chief priests in order to betray him. The irony is that, according to Matthew, Judas asks the chief priests for money, in exchange for turning over Jesus. Even as Judas complains that the woman has wasted her nard on Jesus instead of feeding the poor, he takes 30 pieces of silver in exchange for turning Jesus over. And so we come to the sixth secret of the Mister Rogers Effect, Practice Acceptance. As Fred Rogers said “When we love a person, we accept [them] exactly as is: the lovely with the unlovely, the strong with the fearful, the true mixed in with the facade, and of course, the only way we can do it is by accepting ourselves that way.” (Fred Rogers) [1] Rogers projected acceptance to his TV audience, singing “It’s You I Like” at the end of every show. He “believed that self-acceptance was a prerequisite to other acceptance” and he was determined to cultivate self-acceptance among his young viewers. [2] For Christians, self-acceptance is essential, and so is the conviction that we are accepted, by our loving parent God. And yet both self-acceptance and the belief that we are accepted can be very difficult in our times. We are encouraged to self-criticism to the point of self-judgment. Both narcissism and self-loathing are on the rise, in a culture that emphasizes material success, achievement and popularity based on social media hits and likes. The 20th century German-American theologian, Paul Tillich, delivered a famous sermon on the grace of God, in which he urged Christians to “accept that you are accepted.” He said “[Grace] strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. … it is as though a voice were saying: ‘You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. … Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!’” [3] Self-acceptance and accepting that we are accepted by God are critical steps toward accepting others as they are. And, of course, accepting others as they are is the only true way to love. Wishing someone was different and trying to change them is about control over others. Loving is never about controlling. When my husband and I were married, our wedding was officiated by our minister. I remember only one piece of advice from our marriage preparation meetings. The minister said, and I paraphrase “never try to change the other, it will only cause them to resent you. You both will change, of course, as you grow together. And if you do not try to change the other, they will grow into the way they are supposed to be and become all the more beloved.” It has not always been easy to remember this advice, but I know that when I have felt accepted for who I am, accepted for my own hopes and dreams, I have grown in ways that feel good, right and true. One of the most difficult things to accept, from a person we love, is that they are suffering, or that their life might be reaching its close. The most natural human response is to try to fix or deny suffering and death. Perhaps you have not been ready to accept the truth of what a loved one has told you. They say that they are sick and they won’t get well. They want to discuss how they will leave this life, or what will happen when they are gone. Often family members are not willing to listen and the sick or dying person is left without anyone to share their worries and fears. I want you to know that I am always available to talk about end of life issues or anything else, particularly, if your family and loved ones are having trouble accepting. For now, though, we return to the gospel story for this morning, looking through the lens of acceptance. The disciples, who are angry at the woman who anoints Jesus’ head with lotion, are in denial. They have not taken in what Jesus has been telling, them: that he will suffer and die in Jerusalem, that the only way forward, now, is the way of the cross. These followers do not truly accept Jesus. They do not accept who he is, why he has come and where he is going. Instead they project their own goals and agenda onto him. Perhaps they imagine taking power in Jerusalem, or raising an armed rebellion. When the woman comes forward to anoint Jesus, the others see exactly what she is doing. The woman understands Jesus. She has listened to his predictions of suffering and death. She does what she can to care for him, without denying what the outcome of his actions will be. But, we must wonder about Judas and his agenda. He is so outraged at the woman’s actions that he goes to betray Jesus. We might wonder if this is the product of his lack of self-acceptance, his own self-loathing. According to Matthew, Judas’s life ends by suicide. He throws away the money he receives from the temple elite in an act of self-disgust. Judas can’t accept himself, and so he cannot accept Jesus for who he is. How things might have been different if he could. So often we, as individuals and institutions like the church, do not accept Jesus for who he is and why he came. We also project our own goals and agenda onto him. But, how might things be different, if this Holy Week we accept ourselves, we accept others and we accept that we are accepted by the one who humbled himself even to death on the cross. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] Kuhnley, Anita Knight . The Mister Rogers Effect (p. 137). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. [2] Ibid., p. 141 [3] https://southfellowship.org/accept-that-you-are-accepted/ Secret 5: Develop Empathy Preached for Wollaston Congregational Church On March 21st, 2021 Scripture: John 12:20-33 Today we come to the fifth secret of the Mister Rogers effect, which is “Develop Empathy.” When Oprah Winfrey invited Fred Rogers onto her show, and asked him “what is the biggest mistake parents make?” he replied “not to remember their own childhood.” The two went back on forth on the challenge for parents of remembering what it is like to be a child, and the need to do so. Rogers closed the discussion by saying “ … children can help re-evoke what it was like, and that’s why when you’re a parent, you have a new chance to grow.” [1] Empathy is not necessarily automatic, but we are given new chances to grow into it, over and over throughout our lives. Our scripture reading this week, comes from the gospel of John. This passage is a snippet of teaching Jesus gives the disciples in Jerusalem, during the week leading up to the feast of the Passover. This is just a few days before Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus uses the metaphor of a grain of wheat, which needs to fall into the earth and die in order to germinate, grow and produce more wheat. He tells them that those who love their life will lose it, but those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. The analogy might be heard as words of comfort for believers: when they die and are buried in the earth, they will transition to eternal life. But this interpretation does not make sense in the context. Jesus wants the disciples to serve and follow him in this life. He wants them to bear good fruit before they actually die. In the gospel of John, this world, refers to the “fallen realm” that is estranged from God. This world is set up to oppose God’s purposes. It is this world that values winning over mercy and compassion. It is this world that seeks violent revenge for perceived slights. It is this world that drives young men to shoot up spas that employ young Asian women. This world is the system that treats certain people as expendable objects, instead of beloved children of God. To die to this world, or to hate one’s life in this world, means to break open, like a seed in the ground, to new, Christ-like life. It means to break open to empathy, with the suffering of the world, on both a small and a grand scale. There is a double meaning in this text. As Jesus goes on to tell the disciples how he will die, and be raised up again, he is telling of God’s great act of empathy for humanity. God’s body – incarnate in Jesus - has lived the a life of a servant in the world – and now God’s body – incarnate in Jesus – will be broken open on the cross. The disciples are called to die to self, in order to break open to empathy. And at the same time, God shows empathy for all people by coming in Jesus and going to the cross with and through Jesus. This is empathy on a grand scale. Anita Kuhnley, author of our Lenten book “The Mister Rogers Effect”, writes: “True empathy feels what another feels from their frame of reference … Empathy requires true adventuring and walking around in Joe’s world so that I might be able to understand him better.” [2] Kuhnley explains that psychologists break down empathy into the cognitive empathy and affective empathy. Cognitive empathy is the ability to understand another’s perspective. Affective empathy is the ability “to respond to another’s emotional state with a corresponding emotional state of our own.” [3] Affective empathy takes courage, because the other person might well be feeling pain, they may well be suffering. This is why we often resist empathy: we do not want to feel the other’s pain. I remember a time when I had become friendly with Alana, a woman who cared for some children in my neighborhood. The family’s children and mine were close in age, and we’d often find ourselves at the same activities. Alana was from Brazil and she looked as though she might be African American. She told me that when she brought the children in her care to activities at the gym, the staff on the door were unfriendly toward her. She told me that she was experiencing racism. I minimized her experience, saying “oh those staff are not friendly to me either.” I didn’t empathize with Alana’s experience of the micro-aggressions she was experiencing in our mainly white community. I only heard what she was saying from my own perspective. I regret that now, and I realize that it is probably the reason we fell out of contact. The chapter “Develop Empathy: Begin with People Where They Are” opens with the quote “There isn’t anyone you couldn’t love once you’ve heard their story.” [4] This reminds of MM the person who supervised me during my Clinical Pastoral Education or CPE program in an eldercare facility. As part of my preparation for ministry, I was required to provide spiritual care for residents in the facility. I noticed the way that MM showed love and empathy for practically everyone in the program, and also for the staff and residents of the facility. One day, I asked what was her secret? How did she manage to love so many people? She responded, “oh well, if you look hard enough … you’ll almost always find something to love in anyone.” MM is a listener, like Fred Rogers. In her program she works to develop empathy in all her students. To develop greater empathy requires us to break open, like the seed Jesus talks about. When I first began my CPE program, I was shocked by the suffering of the people I would be providing spiritual care for. Many of them suffered from dementia and other mental challenges like depression. In addition they had physical challenges: hardness of hearing, macular degeneration, loss of mobility. And of course, many had experienced the loss of loved ones: spouses, children, close friends and relatives. This is what often happens to those who grow very old. Each week I’d return to MM for supervision and we’d talk through my interactions. I confessed that I was having trouble getting close to my residents. I’d arrive on the floor in the morning, ready to work. I’d greet whoever was already up and dressed and ask if they’d like to talk. In the back of my mind I figured that I was only going to be there for a few months, so I couldn’t get too attached. Looking back, I must have seemed brisk and business like. When I asked someone if they’d like to talk the answer was usually “not yet” or not at all. They seemed suspicious of me, and they were reluctant to open up. I realized that I need to build trust, to get alongside the residents. I needed a way to use my time, too, so I’d join the group activities, like bingo, or help to serve snacks and drinks at the social gatherings. Gradually the residents began to communicate with me. Gradually I began to listen to their various stories. Gradually my heart broke open to the residents and their circumstances. I began to understand how much energy it took to get up in the morning, or why some would be withdrawn and uncommunicative at times. I began to understand why someone in pain might snap at me, when I approached. It was as if I had been a seed, protecting myself with a hard shell avoiding getting close and involved. In order to develop empathy, I needed to be broken open. This process brought about good fruit. I developed powerful connections with my residents. Empathy is a quality that begins with oneself. We learn empathy if we are shown empathy when we are very young. Ideally a caregiver responds to an infant’s smile mirroring a happy face, and their crying, by mirroring their sad face. But, we all know that parenting is rarely perfect, and some infants are barely shown any empathy at all. Fortunately, empathy can also be learned. Anita Kuhnley recommends “putting on our own oxygen mask first” saying “Replacing the internal critic with a compassionate, kind friend can be transformational.” [5] Empathy toward oneself includes many benefits, such as seeing the good in others, because you are not rating yourself more favorably, or experiencing respect for oneself, and an increased likelihood you will forgive your own mistakes. [6] Empathy for ourselves is where we begin. We then progress to one-on-one empathy. In order to participate in God’s empathy with all humanity, as shown in Jesus, we will also need to embrace empathy on a grand scale. This means showing empathy in the neighborhood and in the community. It means being mindful of the language we use. It means never dismissing anyone who says they feel unsafe. Developing empathy on a grand scale means believing people who tell us they experience discrimination or oppression: - Women know when they are experiencing sexism - LGBTQ people know when they are experiencing homophobia or trans-phobia - Non-white people know when they are experiencing racism - Older people know when they are experiencing ageism. - And children know when they are experiencing bullying or abuse, even if they don’t yet have the language to express it. Our fifth secret of the Mister Rogers Effect opens us up to care and compassion for ourselves, our closest friends and loved ones, and also to care and compassion for the whole world. This is a life long journey of breaking open and breaking open yet again. It is a quality that we develop, and God develops in us if we will allow. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies” … Richard Rohr describes this as “The Path of Descent,” saying “Authentic spirituality is always on some level or in some way about letting go.” [7] This is the way of the cross. And so, as Jesus comes closer to Jerusalem and to the cross, may we prepare to break open, yet again, to new Christ-like life. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] Kuhnley, Anita Knight . The Mister Rogers Effect (p. 118). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. [2] Ibid., 119 [3] Ibid., 120 [4] Sister Mary Lou Kownacki, director, Monasteries of the Heart [5] Kuhnley, Anita Knight . The Mister Rogers Effect. (p. 132). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. [6] Ibid., 128 [7] https://cac.org/the-path-of-descent-2017-06-21/ Secret 4: Show Gratitude Preached on March 14th, 2021 for Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Numbers 21:4-9 This morning the focus scripture for our sermon is from the book of Numbers. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever preached from this book before. After all “Numbers” is not a very inspiring title. This morning we might want to refer to the book’s Hebrew name, instead, which is “In the Wilderness.” This may still sound a little dreary, but at least it is more descriptive. Also, “In the Wilderness” is the perfect title for the journey of Lent. The 40 days and nights of Lent correspond to Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness, where he was tempted. The writers of the scriptures love recurrent themes, and so Jesus 40 days in the wilderness reflects the 40 years Jesus’ ancestors, the Israelites, spent wandering in the wilderness before entering the Promised Land. The Israelites are the people who were led, by Moses, out of Egypt, where they had been enslaved by the king, Pharaoh. They received the gift of the law at Mount Sinai and then God leads their encampment into the wilderness. They remain there, wandering for 40 years before they are allowed to enter the land God has promised them. By any standards, this is a long time. It seems excessive, to say the least. And we might wonder, why couldn’t they enter the land sooner? Perhaps 40 years is the length of time it takes for them to transition from being enslaved people, to independent people who trust in God, and not in Pharaoh. Or perhaps this is the length of time the people need to learn to live compassionately and wisely in the Promised Land. Perhaps God is testing the people, to make sure they are deserving of the land promised to them. Whatever the reason, God provides for the people in the wilderness. At first God’s provisions seem miraculous: fresh water and manna, a kind of crispy bread that appears on the ground each morning. But the manna only lasts for one day. If the Israelites try to store it, it becomes worm infested and spoiled. They have to rely and trust in God, daily, for their daily bread In spite of this miraculous provision, the early harmony of their encampment evaporates over time. The people become impatient with the wilderness wandering, the people complain to God. They complain about their monotonous diet. They remember how they were able to eat fish, various vegetables and fruit, while they were in Egypt. They forget that they were slaves, but they remember the menu. The passage we heard today describes their fifth and final episode of complaining. We don’t know how long they have been wandering at this time. It’s safe to assume they are well into the 40 year long journey. This fifth and final complaint is directed at both God and Moses. The people have suffered enough. They might be expected to lament the trials they have been through and they are going through. But instead, they complain about the food. They are tired of the daily bread God is providing for them. They have lost patience and they stop trusting God and God’s provision for them. Gratitude is non-existent. God gets angry about the Israelites’ complaining and sends a plague of poisonous serpents. These venomous snakes bite the complaining people. But there is an antidote. God instructs Moses to make a bronze serpent, set on a pole. Whoever looks at the serpent will be healed. This is a success. And the snake on the pole serves as a reminder to trust in God and give thanks for God’s provision and protection. The people survive their punishment and their time in the wilderness. They do finally enter the land. And I expect that this story would be all be forgotten, if the evangelist, John, had not referred to it in today’s gospel text. We return to the theme of gratitude today. We’ve talked about it before, on a number occasions. Gratitude is the cornerstone of a spiritual life in many traditions, including Christianity. In the Christian faith, we are called to gratitude for God’s gifts in creation and in each new day. Ultimately we are called to gratitude for the gift of Jesus, God’s own child, who lived among us as John says “full of grace and truth.” Jesus’ life, death resurrection, and ascension, demonstrate to us God’s grace, in the face of humanity’s lost-ness. As the Swiss theologian, Karl Barth, said “Grace and gratitude belong together like heaven and earth. Grace evokes gratitude like the voice an echo. Gratitude follows grace like thunder lightning.” The fourth secret of the Mr. Rogers effect is “Show Gratitude.” Fred Rogers had a particular take on gratitude. As a “people person” Rogers regularly showed appreciation for the people, especially the children, around him. In his speeches, in person and on television, he reminded us to pause and take a moment to remember the people who had “loved us into becoming [ourselves].” Mr. Rogers didn’t only feel appreciation for people, he expressed it even to his TV audience, “It’s such a good feeling to know you’re alive” was his signature tune and opening to his TV show. You may remember that one of the aspects of the first secret of the Mr Rogers effect, “Listen First”, was to practice “prizing.” “Prizing” means showing appreciation for the person we are with, by lighting up when we see them, and genuinely appreciating their presence with us. Prizing isn’t fake or phony. If you smile and say “it’s good to see you” to each person you meet, you will mean it. In the book “The Mister Rogers Effect”, author Anita Kuhnley talks about the “science of gratitude.” She says that gratitude engenders hope. It’s less a feeling and more an attitude. It’s a state of mind, or a moral affect. [1] Gratitude is both giving and receiving. The recipient, being appreciated, feels good. And we feel good giving appreciation. There are many quantifiable health benefits, including lower blood pressure, enhanced immune function, decreased depression, increase resilience and happiness. [2] I’ve discovered that a “circle of appreciation” is a failsafe exercise for Youth Groups, often during the last session of a semester or at the close of a youth retreat. We’ll go around the group, each person having a turn to receive appreciations from each other members of the group. Let me tell you, even the toughest groups will melt their own hearts and yours when they do this exercise. As Kuhnley says, gratitude has a ripple effect “not only does gratitude make the grateful person happier, healthier and more successful, it also impacts those around them positively.” [3] With all the benefits of gratitude, you might think it would be simple. But, of course, we know it isn’t. Our moods impact our ability to be grateful. As for the Israelites in the wilderness, there is a lot for us to lament and grieve in these times. Our hope of hopes is that we are very close to the end of the pandemic, at least in the United States. And still, grief and lament are appropriate responses to the tragedy of the human suffering of the past year. As we look forward to the year ahead for our community, anxiety might surface. We might well wish that we were back in 2019, and that 2020 was just a bad dream. We may look back with rose-colored glasses, to days in crowded restaurants and coffee shops, sports events and concerts. We may wish to go back to times when using telecommunications was fun and convenient, instead of an annoying necessity. But, as with the Israelites in the wilderness. there is no going back. We have no direction to go but forward. Going forward we can try to learn from the past year’s experience. -Have we learned to appreciate one another’s company all the more? -Have we learned that our church is the “body of Christ” rather than a structure located on the intersection of Winthrop and Lincoln Avenues? -Have we learned not to take transportation and travel for granted? -Or not to forget to say “I’m sorry”, “I forgive you”, “thank you”, or “I love you” whenever we say good bye? This past week, a number of clergy from the Quincy Interfaith Network put together a beautiful Interfaith Service of Grief & Hope, following one year of pandemic. The service will premier on March 23rd at 7 pm on Quincy Access TV (QATV) and will also be available online. Elements of this service were recorded at the QATV studio on Wednesday. The presenters were carefully scheduled to minimize contact with one another, and of course everyone was appropriately masked and distanced. The service includes litanies, songs and prayers from a diversity of religious traditions and community members. The format was designed to begin by acknowledging grief and loss. And then, having taken the time to grieve, there is a turn toward gratitude and hope, lifting up the resilience of the community and our people. I had the honor of presenting a litany of Gratitude and Hope, with our congregational representative and dedicated worker for the health of the community, Kim Kroeger. Kim and I arrived at the studio on that sunny afternoon, to be greeted at the door by our colleague the Rev. Alissa Oleson, of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church. Recording was running a little late, and so we stood outside, catching up on the latest community health news. How is the vaccination roll out going? What is testing looking like these days? As we were given the go ahead to go inside, a group of Hindu women were just leaving. These women were delighted to see so many women religious leaders, and presented us all with a delightful box of sweet treats. Rabbi Fred Benjamin, of the Milton synagogue, had just recorded his message and so we were able to greet him too. Once we had completed our recording a local Imam arrived to offer his words. As a member of the Interfaith Network, I’m aware how difficult it has been to contact and involve the Islamic community. I was so pleased to see that they had been included in this service. The fact that this service was so lovingly created and so beautifully inclusive warmed my heart. I could not help but feel gratitude and joy, in midst the sadness of the occasion. These days, at least for me, emotions rise and fall rapidly: despair, and then hope, joy and then sadness, lament and then praise. We’ll probably be riding this rollercoaster for a while. And so, I invite you, any time you can, any time it feels even a little bit possible, to show gratitude and to show appreciation. Because, as I read on a one church newsfeed this past week “It’s not happiness that brings us gratitude. It’s gratitude that bring us happiness.” May all God’s people say, Amen [1] Kuhnley, Anita Knight . The Mister Rogers Effect (p. 104). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. [2] Ibid., 104-105 [3] Ibid., 111 Pausing to Think Preached on March 7th, 2021 for Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: John 2:13-22 Our theme for today is “pause and think.” This is the third secret in our reading of the Mister Rogers Effect, secrets that we hope will help us bring out the best in ourselves and others. “Pause and think” are not words we read in the gospel, we are not often shown Jesus pausing to think in any given situation. The way that Jesus is presented to us in the scriptures is generally “the product” rather than “the process.” Each of the four gospels was written for a particular end or goal. This often involves an argument in which we do not hear from “the other side.” In the case of John’s gospel, the argument is with the people John calls “the Jews.” This term does not refer to all the Jewish people, rather it refers to the strict religious leaders of the time. They are the ones who collaborate with the Roman rulers in Jerusalem for the sake of peace. In the passage Jonathan read today from John today, Jesus enters the temple in Jerusalem. He makes a whip out of cords and uses it to drive the animals that were to be sold for sacrifice. And he overturns the tables of the people who exchanged temple currency for Roman coins. In our reading from John, this morning Jesus goes up to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover at the beginning of his ministry. In this gospel, Jesus is makes his position on who holds the power in the religious institution known from the very beginning. John, in particular, likes to present a product in which Jesus is in control. The pausing to think is over. Jesus acts with confidence and authority. But a couple of weeks ago we noticed Jesus pause to think when stopping to listen to the story of a woman with a hemorrhage. And in Luke’s gospel there is a passage that really belongs with John, in which Jesus very deliberately pauses to think about the situation of a woman about to be stoned having been caught in adultery. Today we have to examine the passage from John quite closely to determine what kind of pausing to think went into Jesus’s actions. The first step is to let go of past assumptions we’ve made of this story. This dramatic scene has often been told in illustrated children’s Bibles and coloring pages, sometime a little too simplistically. Despite what we may have been told in Sunday School, there is no indication that the money changers were cheating people. There’s no mention of Jesus’ objection to the noise or bustle in the temple courts. Jesus is known to have participated in the heated arguments and exchanges of outer court of the temple campus. Writer and retired pastor, Steve Garnaas Holmes puts it this way: “Let's correct a few misconceptions from your Sunday School comic book pictures. First, he doesn't use the whip on people. He uses it to herd the animals out. “Second: he's not mad. This isn't an outburst. (It takes time and patience to braid a whip.) It's carefully staged symbolic street theater: a protest. “Third: the moneychangers belong there. They exchange Jewish coins, acceptable for offerings or for buying sacrificial animals, for the ‘unclean; Roman money that people carry. It's how you make a sacrifice. And they aren't overcharging. Jesus isn't criticizing ‘commercialization.’ He's protesting sacrifice. (Mark says he wouldn't allow anyone to carry a vessel through the temple.)” [1] This is carefully staged symbolic street theater, a protest. This sets the scene for Jesus’s future ministry. From the get-go Jesus is aligning himself with the prophets, like Hosea, who heard God say “I desire mercy not sacrifice” (Hosea 6:6) or Micah who proclaimed “what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8). Jesus protests the sacrifice of animals in the temple because it is a distraction. The animals are literally scapegoats. They are supposed to take away all the sins of the people. The people focus their attention the rituals of religion and on sacrifice. Meanwhile, their lives may be made miserable by the lack of justice and mercy they are being shown by the Roman rulers. The religious leaders fear that there is a potential for rebellion, which would bring about the downfall of Jerusalem. The temple rituals allow them to keep things under control. The Jewish religion stopped sacrificing animals when the temple was finally destroyed in the uprising that took place from 66-73 CE. But scapegoating did not stop there. It has continued even in to our times. Notably, Hitler chose to scapegoat the Jewish people for the ills that the people of Germany were facing in the 1930’s. He found it convenient to unite the so-called Arian Germans against a common enemy. In America in the 1700’s, Virginia lawmakers created the concept of race by separating slaves of African descent from whites, whom they upgraded to indentured servants. The white upper classes were fearful of a rebellion if the two groups joined forces, and so the “plantation owners consciously encouraged racial hatred between blacks and poor whites.” [2] The African slaves became a scapegoat for the white indentured servants, who were distracted by blaming their misery on the black slaves. And sadly, scapegoating continues to this day. PBS news reports that hate crimes against Asian Americans have spiked over the past year. Some of this violence has taken place in Quincy, with two recent attacks on elderly Asian residents. Asian people, assumed to be Chinese, have been blamed in ignorance for the spread of the coronavirus. They have become the scapegoat of the pandemic and of our times. [3] While we do not always see Jesus pause to think about what his next action would be, we certainly see Fred Rogers pause to think in his interactions on the TV. Rogers’ speech is punctuated by pauses, his interactions with fast paced interviewers are slow and deliberate. One outcome of Mr. Rogers’ intentional thought process, achieved through prayer and reflection, was to invite François Clemmons to appear on his TV show as the neighborhood character, Officer Clemmons. Clemmons was a young gay African American man who had a beautiful singing voice. He first joined Mr. Rogers Neighborhood in the midst of the Civil Rights movement in the 1960’s. In 1969, African Americans were protesting segregation in public swimming pools, by going to swim in “white only” pools. The news of the time showed violent images of pool managers pouring bleach and acid on the swimmers. [4] Rogers must have paused to think about the impact of these images on the young minds of his TV audience. And so he did some street theater of his own. It was simple: he acted out a scene on a hot day in the neighborhood when Mr. Rogers invites Officer Clemmons to soak his feet and share a wading pool with him. This must be one of Mr. Rogers’ most Jesus-y moments, as he modeled love and care for his African American neighbor. Of course, Rogers wasn’t Jesus, he was simply a man. A blot on his lifelong friendship with Clemmons was to forbid Clemmons to appear on the TV show if he came out as gay. He went so far as to suggest Clemmons should marry a woman. Clemmons recalls that Rogers said: "I want you to know Franç, that if you're gay, it doesn't matter to me at all. Whatever you say and do is fine with me, but if you're going to be on the show as an important member of The Neighborhood, you can't be out as gay ... I wish it were different, but you can't have it both ways. Not now anyway. Talent can give you so much in this life, but that sexuality thing can take it all away." [5] Even so, Clemmons was confident that Fred Rogers loved him, just for being himself. Crises in our world bring out the best and the worst in humanity and a lot of in-between too. This holds true for the past year and the pandemic. As we reach the anniversary of the first death to COVID of a Quincy resident later this month, we are called to pause and think. This time last year, I remember going out walking in the Wollaston Hill neighborhood, the day of our last evening Lenten meeting before the suspension of in person meetings. We hadn’t yet adopted the use of facemasks. We were just washing our hands and cleaning surfaces. I don’t think that the depressing term “social distancing” had not yet come into use. But we all knew that things were about to change. As I met a woman and children coming up the hill from school, I carefully stepped out of the way. I was a mindful that they might think of close contact with me as a risk. And then as the year progressed, we learned that keep our distance from one another was the loving thing to do. Now, though, there’s a real concern that as we really hope to emerge from this pandemic, children and adults will need to unlearn the fear of contact with others. I’m concerned that scapegoating might rear its head in many shapes and forms. There might be blaming and shaming of those who would not or could not follow restrictions. As we struggle to rebuild the economy, leaders may deflect criticism by projecting blame onto targeted groups. This Lenten time is giving us a season of pause, before activities tentatively begin again. And so, let’s ponder, what acts can we do to overcome the scourge of scapegoating? Jesus’s dramatic act was to overturn tables. Mr. Roger’s act was to simply share a wading pool. What will be my act, and what will be yours? May we pause and think and may all God’s people say … Amen [1] “Right Sacrifice”, https://www.unfoldinglight.net/ [2] https://www.brookings.edu/blog/fixgov/2017/08/15/when-white-supremacy-came-to-virginia/ [3] https://www.voanews.com/usa/race-america/hate-crimes-targeting-asian-americans-spiked-150-major-us-cities [4] https://www.huffpost.com/entry/history-segregated-swimming-pools-parks-racism_b_5d289125e4b0f0348e32fdad [5] https://www.npr.org/2020/04/30/847315345/officer-clemmons-mister-rogers-neighborhood-policeman-pal-tells-his-story |
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April 2022
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