I know, it's been awhile since I last posted. Unfortunately, while getting our Christmas tree a few weeks ago, I slammed my finger in the car door. In addition to solidifying my status as the klutz of our household, the injury made it difficult to type for awhile. I'm still not back to 100% typing capability, but I'm finally at the point where I can go beyond necessary typing and re-enter the world of blog.
Things are well in West Newton. I'm surprisingly prepared for this evening's service, and our house is ready for Lisa's family to arrive this afternoon. I cannot wait for the service tonight. It's the best service of the year in our congregation -- as well as the most dangerous. I might ask Lisa to take some pictures tonight so you can see what I'm up against as I delicately maneuver around uncovered candles. It's a flaming clerical robe waiting to happen.
A few brief updates, for those of you I won't see in the next couple of weeks:
1. The kittens are growing, and still incredibly cute. Chief and I have established a "fetch"-like game, where he brings his toy tiger up to me on the couch, and I flick it across the room, he retrieves it, and we repeat.
2. It snowed a lot last Saturday, and a little more on Monday. Hopefully it will stay cold enough today that it doesn't all melt, and we can have a white Christmas. Have I ever told you how much I love snow? Unfortunately, tomorrow's forecast is for ice/sleet in the morning, turning to rain in the afternoon. Ugh.
3. Amazingly, the Steelers still have a slim chance of sneaking into the playoffs. But, I don't think any team who loses to the Chiefs, Raiders, and Browns in a 5 week stretch should be allowed to make the playoffs. So, should the Steelers miraculously get in, I propose that they go all Notre Dame and decline the playoff invitation, because they sure didn't earn it.
4. We now have a church website, created by one of our members, who happens to be a web developer for clothing retailer American Eagle. We're still filling in some content, but I'm very excited that our congregation has finally chosen to keep up with 1990's technology.
In an effort to be politically correct, I will not wish you a Merry Christmas. Rather, in the spirit of NBC's hilarious new show, Community, I wish you a Merry Happy, and I hope Mr. Winter brings you lots of non-denominational gifts and cheer!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
On Preparation
Sermon for Sunday, Dec. 6
Second Sunday of Advent
Scripture: Luke 3:1-6
A couple weeks ago, on Thanksgiving, Lisa and I visited my grandparents’ house with the rest of my mother’s family. Many of us who were visiting them were busy that morning preparing food to take, and making other preparations of a somewhat trivial nature. Meanwhile, my grandparents were preparing their home for our visit – making food, cleaning, making the dining room table even larger. But Grandma and Pap Pap, as I call them, were also preparing for visitors in a different way – with a means of preparation that has become part of their regular routine.
Over the last few years, Pap Pap’s mind has begun to be taken over by Alzheimer’s. Each day, it seems, Alzheimer’s is gaining more and more territory in his mind, destroying more and more memories that he once held dear. As a result, he sometimes struggles to remember exactly who people are and what their relationship to him is. So, every time my grandparents are expecting visitors, Grandma sits down with Pap Pap and reviews who is coming, the purpose of the visit, the nature of the relationships with the visitors, and even some talking points that he can use to have a conversation. Of course, I’ve never seen this preparation in action, but to me it sounds like a tutor helping a student cram for a test. I have this image of Grandma and Pap Pap sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, Grandma briefing Pap Pap on their wonderful grandson Erik, who is a pastor, and his beautiful wife Lisa, an engineer. And I can tell that when it comes to my visits, the cram sessions always include the fact that golf is and has always been a good talking point between me and Pap Pap.
In some ways, Grandma’s preparations work. This past Thanksgiving, I was able to talk at length about golf with Pap Pap, and whether he remembers that conversation or not, we were able to share and celebrate our relationship together, partially as a result of Grandma and Pap Pap’s preparations.
When I reflect on how I prepared for Thanksgiving as opposed to how Pap Pap prepared for Thanksgiving, I become aware that Pap Pap prepares with more love and care than the rest of the family. While the rest of us were busy that morning with menial, mindless tasks of labor, Pap Pap was engaged in deep reflection on the nature of his relationships with those whom he loves. And when I think about that, I become ashamed of how much he thought about our relationship with love and care prior to our visit, and how little we really thought of him at all, because we were busy making green beans.
We all know that the Advent season is a season of preparation in many ways. We clean and decorate our houses, we shop for loved ones, we plan days off to visit with family, we cook elaborate meals or bake dozens of Christmas cookies. We attend church with anticipation and excitement, eager to light the Advent wreath or to hear our favorite Christmas carol. We go caroling around town to spread the hope, peace, joy, and love of Jesus Christ. We remind ourselves that “Jesus is the reason for the season.” The Christmas Eve worship service is already being planned. The choir is preparing wonderful anthems to offer throughout the season. Festive events fill the church calendar this month.
These are wonderful ways to prepare ourselves for the coming of Christmas. But something tells me that John the Baptizer isn’t talking about decorating or baking or even lighting an Advent wreath when he says, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” No, John’s quoting of Isaiah comes right on the heels of “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” As strange as it may sound, our call on this Advent morning is to prepare the way of the Lord through repentance.
The Greek word for repentance, metanoia, is used here to mean a reversal, a turning away from one thing and towards another. John’s hope is that we who hear him will choose to turn our attention from our lives to the life of Jesus Christ. Rather than worrying about whether we’re burning the Christmas cookies, or if we’ll make the party on time, or if we’re singing the carol exactly as written, John wants us to examine our relationship with Jesus Christ. This, I don’t think, is meant to be done in a fearful or threatening way – my relationships with other people are not based on fear of them, and neither is my relationship with Christ. But John does call us to the important preparatory work of repentance – turning our attention toward the God who will make his presence known to us through the birth of Jesus Christ. And so, we are called to close examination, like my grandfather, of the relationship we have with an expected visitor.
This Advent, this time of preparation, is meant as a time to examine the nature of our relationship with Christ. How has that relationship been in the past? What moments have we shared? When have we laughed together? Cried together? Been angry or disappointed in each other? What memories, old and new, do we have of experiencing Jesus Christ in our life?
And how does our relationship with Christ stand right now? When was the last time we were present – not just physically present but mentally and emotionally present – with him? Are we engaging in spiritual practices that are keeping us connected in relationship with Jesus? Are we worshipping with our soul, praying, reading – and really meditating on – scripture, being servants, loving one another? Are we really looking around our world trying to catch glimpses of the kingdom of God? Are we doing all that we can to prepare ourselves for the visit of the Christ child? And regardless of what we’ve already been doing, what else can we do to re-connect with Christ this Christmas?
I invite you to continue preparing in your usual ways this season. Decorate and clean your house. Show hospitality to family and friends, and perhaps exchange loving gifts with them. Practice charity with all people. Celebrate the lighting of an Advent wreath here or at home. Hang your stockings with care and set out your nativities with greater care. Cook delicious meals and tasty cookies. Attend worship as often as you are able. Count down the days until the celebration of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
But in addition to these preparations, keep the words of John the Baptizer fresh in your mind. Prepare the way – not just the way of family and friends, but the way of the Lord. And practice repentance – find ways to help yourself TURN FROM what separates you from God and TURN TOWARD what draws you closer to God.
My grandfather, in his pre-visit preparations, defiantly turns away from the evil taking over his mind, and turns instead toward his relationship with the visitors. Rather than let his Alzheimer’s construct a barrier between him and me, he has found a way to still prepare for cultivating our relationship anew, each time I enter his presence. And I suspect that turning away from the evil and turning towards our relationship will get harder for him as time passes, but Pap Pap has always been very persistent. So I know that even when the barriers between him and me get stronger, it’ll only make him try harder to be in relationship with me. And what’s important is not necessarily that the relationship stays the same as it has been. What’s important is that despite barriers of evil, he and I will do all we can to keep our relationship meaningful in some way as long as possible.
Are there barriers between you and God as you approach the coming of the Christ child? Are you seeking ways to turn from those barriers and toward the relationship with the Messiah? While you clean, cook, shop, and party, will you allow this Advent season to be defined by preparations of a different sort as well? Come, repent. Turn away from the darkness and turn toward the light. Prepare the way of the Lord in your heart, mind and soul. Prepare the way of the Lord, so all flesh shall see the salvation of God. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Second Sunday of Advent
Scripture: Luke 3:1-6
A couple weeks ago, on Thanksgiving, Lisa and I visited my grandparents’ house with the rest of my mother’s family. Many of us who were visiting them were busy that morning preparing food to take, and making other preparations of a somewhat trivial nature. Meanwhile, my grandparents were preparing their home for our visit – making food, cleaning, making the dining room table even larger. But Grandma and Pap Pap, as I call them, were also preparing for visitors in a different way – with a means of preparation that has become part of their regular routine.
Over the last few years, Pap Pap’s mind has begun to be taken over by Alzheimer’s. Each day, it seems, Alzheimer’s is gaining more and more territory in his mind, destroying more and more memories that he once held dear. As a result, he sometimes struggles to remember exactly who people are and what their relationship to him is. So, every time my grandparents are expecting visitors, Grandma sits down with Pap Pap and reviews who is coming, the purpose of the visit, the nature of the relationships with the visitors, and even some talking points that he can use to have a conversation. Of course, I’ve never seen this preparation in action, but to me it sounds like a tutor helping a student cram for a test. I have this image of Grandma and Pap Pap sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, Grandma briefing Pap Pap on their wonderful grandson Erik, who is a pastor, and his beautiful wife Lisa, an engineer. And I can tell that when it comes to my visits, the cram sessions always include the fact that golf is and has always been a good talking point between me and Pap Pap.
In some ways, Grandma’s preparations work. This past Thanksgiving, I was able to talk at length about golf with Pap Pap, and whether he remembers that conversation or not, we were able to share and celebrate our relationship together, partially as a result of Grandma and Pap Pap’s preparations.
When I reflect on how I prepared for Thanksgiving as opposed to how Pap Pap prepared for Thanksgiving, I become aware that Pap Pap prepares with more love and care than the rest of the family. While the rest of us were busy that morning with menial, mindless tasks of labor, Pap Pap was engaged in deep reflection on the nature of his relationships with those whom he loves. And when I think about that, I become ashamed of how much he thought about our relationship with love and care prior to our visit, and how little we really thought of him at all, because we were busy making green beans.
We all know that the Advent season is a season of preparation in many ways. We clean and decorate our houses, we shop for loved ones, we plan days off to visit with family, we cook elaborate meals or bake dozens of Christmas cookies. We attend church with anticipation and excitement, eager to light the Advent wreath or to hear our favorite Christmas carol. We go caroling around town to spread the hope, peace, joy, and love of Jesus Christ. We remind ourselves that “Jesus is the reason for the season.” The Christmas Eve worship service is already being planned. The choir is preparing wonderful anthems to offer throughout the season. Festive events fill the church calendar this month.
These are wonderful ways to prepare ourselves for the coming of Christmas. But something tells me that John the Baptizer isn’t talking about decorating or baking or even lighting an Advent wreath when he says, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” No, John’s quoting of Isaiah comes right on the heels of “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” As strange as it may sound, our call on this Advent morning is to prepare the way of the Lord through repentance.
The Greek word for repentance, metanoia, is used here to mean a reversal, a turning away from one thing and towards another. John’s hope is that we who hear him will choose to turn our attention from our lives to the life of Jesus Christ. Rather than worrying about whether we’re burning the Christmas cookies, or if we’ll make the party on time, or if we’re singing the carol exactly as written, John wants us to examine our relationship with Jesus Christ. This, I don’t think, is meant to be done in a fearful or threatening way – my relationships with other people are not based on fear of them, and neither is my relationship with Christ. But John does call us to the important preparatory work of repentance – turning our attention toward the God who will make his presence known to us through the birth of Jesus Christ. And so, we are called to close examination, like my grandfather, of the relationship we have with an expected visitor.
This Advent, this time of preparation, is meant as a time to examine the nature of our relationship with Christ. How has that relationship been in the past? What moments have we shared? When have we laughed together? Cried together? Been angry or disappointed in each other? What memories, old and new, do we have of experiencing Jesus Christ in our life?
And how does our relationship with Christ stand right now? When was the last time we were present – not just physically present but mentally and emotionally present – with him? Are we engaging in spiritual practices that are keeping us connected in relationship with Jesus? Are we worshipping with our soul, praying, reading – and really meditating on – scripture, being servants, loving one another? Are we really looking around our world trying to catch glimpses of the kingdom of God? Are we doing all that we can to prepare ourselves for the visit of the Christ child? And regardless of what we’ve already been doing, what else can we do to re-connect with Christ this Christmas?
I invite you to continue preparing in your usual ways this season. Decorate and clean your house. Show hospitality to family and friends, and perhaps exchange loving gifts with them. Practice charity with all people. Celebrate the lighting of an Advent wreath here or at home. Hang your stockings with care and set out your nativities with greater care. Cook delicious meals and tasty cookies. Attend worship as often as you are able. Count down the days until the celebration of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
But in addition to these preparations, keep the words of John the Baptizer fresh in your mind. Prepare the way – not just the way of family and friends, but the way of the Lord. And practice repentance – find ways to help yourself TURN FROM what separates you from God and TURN TOWARD what draws you closer to God.
My grandfather, in his pre-visit preparations, defiantly turns away from the evil taking over his mind, and turns instead toward his relationship with the visitors. Rather than let his Alzheimer’s construct a barrier between him and me, he has found a way to still prepare for cultivating our relationship anew, each time I enter his presence. And I suspect that turning away from the evil and turning towards our relationship will get harder for him as time passes, but Pap Pap has always been very persistent. So I know that even when the barriers between him and me get stronger, it’ll only make him try harder to be in relationship with me. And what’s important is not necessarily that the relationship stays the same as it has been. What’s important is that despite barriers of evil, he and I will do all we can to keep our relationship meaningful in some way as long as possible.
Are there barriers between you and God as you approach the coming of the Christ child? Are you seeking ways to turn from those barriers and toward the relationship with the Messiah? While you clean, cook, shop, and party, will you allow this Advent season to be defined by preparations of a different sort as well? Come, repent. Turn away from the darkness and turn toward the light. Prepare the way of the Lord in your heart, mind and soul. Prepare the way of the Lord, so all flesh shall see the salvation of God. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Black Friday
For the first time ever this year, Lisa and I participated in the hysteria that is commonly called "Black Friday." As rookies, we had no idea what to expect, and we were only making one purchase, so we set our alarms and made our way through the dark night to seize our treasure.
Goal: a new TV
Potential Savings: $150
Location: Sears, Westmoreland Mall
Doors Open: 4 am
Wake-up: 3 am
As we arrived at the mall, the main entrance to Sears had a long line of a few hundred people stretching down the sidewalk. So we pulled around back to find only a couple dozen souls standing around that entrance. We got out and joined the crowd, wondering if anyone else shared our sentiment that what we were all doing was somewhere between stupid and crazy.
As 4 am approached, the Sears employees trotted out to their "action positions" as Lisa called it, ready to withstand the trampling that would surely ensue. When they were finally given the go ahead to open the doors, no trampling occurred (I was slightly disappointed, mostly pleased). In fact, people filed in relatively calmly, almost as if everyone was afraid that too much eagerness would reveal them as "that guy." There was no sprinting, no pushing and shoving, but there was much power-walking and light-jogging. We made our way to the escalator, briskly climbing them with the rest as we all made our dash to the electronics department -- where at least 85% of the crowd was going.
Lisa found a salesperson, where she was hastily told to get in a line if she wanted any chance at getting the TV we came for. We waited in line for about a half hour, which allowed us time to take in the sights and sounds around us. There were people grabbing stuff left and right, calling out to companions, impatiently but calmly pressing in around trapped cashiers, and generally ignoring whatever directives were being given by Sears employees. It was organized chaos -- people seemed too bleary-eyed to be outright rude.
Finally, we were the next in line. A seemingly nice couple in front of us was buying a few things, one of which was a GPS. Problem is, they weren't totally certain which one was the one they wanted. They'd forgotten to bring the ad, and they were getting confused with all the intricate product numbers. It was taking a long time. As they continued mucking up the line with their confusion, I thought to myself, "If I don't get my TV because you are taking too long, I am going to be so mad that I wasted my middle of the night driving a half hour out here."
Normally, I'm a pretty patient person in stores. I don't mind waiting in line behind someone who's taking awhile to check out, because I've been on both sides of the register in such situations. It's better to take a couple extra minutes and make sure everything is right, for the sake of the cashier and the customer. But on Friday morning, I felt myself getting impatient and nervous, because I really didn't want anyone getting in the way of me getting what I want. Almost as soon as I had my selfish thought, I had a sinking feeling. I had succumbed to the worst byproduct of capitalism: greed. I felt like I needed to atone for thinking about my TV above someone else's GPS, my happiness over the happiness of someone else. It felt so dirty that when we got home, I considered taking a shower to rinse off the capitalist greed I was covered in.
After purchasing our TV, we pulled the car up to merchandise pick-up, loaded our booty into the car, and were back home in bed by 5:30. We are happy we got such a great deal on a TV, but not happy about what we had to endure to do so. And I hate what Black Friday turned me into. I can't say I'll never go shopping on Black Friday ever again, but I hope to avoid it at all costs. For one thing, I don't ever want to let something as silly as a good deal on a TV consume me enough to turn me into a selfish person. I don't want to see other people as nothing more than obstacles to my own happiness. I don't want to be "that guy" who doesn't care about other people. One thing is certain: now, when I set up that new TV, I will pray for forgiveness for my own selfishness, and I will remember that my happiness should never come at the expense of someone else's.
Goal: a new TV
Potential Savings: $150
Location: Sears, Westmoreland Mall
Doors Open: 4 am
Wake-up: 3 am
As we arrived at the mall, the main entrance to Sears had a long line of a few hundred people stretching down the sidewalk. So we pulled around back to find only a couple dozen souls standing around that entrance. We got out and joined the crowd, wondering if anyone else shared our sentiment that what we were all doing was somewhere between stupid and crazy.
As 4 am approached, the Sears employees trotted out to their "action positions" as Lisa called it, ready to withstand the trampling that would surely ensue. When they were finally given the go ahead to open the doors, no trampling occurred (I was slightly disappointed, mostly pleased). In fact, people filed in relatively calmly, almost as if everyone was afraid that too much eagerness would reveal them as "that guy." There was no sprinting, no pushing and shoving, but there was much power-walking and light-jogging. We made our way to the escalator, briskly climbing them with the rest as we all made our dash to the electronics department -- where at least 85% of the crowd was going.
Lisa found a salesperson, where she was hastily told to get in a line if she wanted any chance at getting the TV we came for. We waited in line for about a half hour, which allowed us time to take in the sights and sounds around us. There were people grabbing stuff left and right, calling out to companions, impatiently but calmly pressing in around trapped cashiers, and generally ignoring whatever directives were being given by Sears employees. It was organized chaos -- people seemed too bleary-eyed to be outright rude.
Finally, we were the next in line. A seemingly nice couple in front of us was buying a few things, one of which was a GPS. Problem is, they weren't totally certain which one was the one they wanted. They'd forgotten to bring the ad, and they were getting confused with all the intricate product numbers. It was taking a long time. As they continued mucking up the line with their confusion, I thought to myself, "If I don't get my TV because you are taking too long, I am going to be so mad that I wasted my middle of the night driving a half hour out here."
Normally, I'm a pretty patient person in stores. I don't mind waiting in line behind someone who's taking awhile to check out, because I've been on both sides of the register in such situations. It's better to take a couple extra minutes and make sure everything is right, for the sake of the cashier and the customer. But on Friday morning, I felt myself getting impatient and nervous, because I really didn't want anyone getting in the way of me getting what I want. Almost as soon as I had my selfish thought, I had a sinking feeling. I had succumbed to the worst byproduct of capitalism: greed. I felt like I needed to atone for thinking about my TV above someone else's GPS, my happiness over the happiness of someone else. It felt so dirty that when we got home, I considered taking a shower to rinse off the capitalist greed I was covered in.
After purchasing our TV, we pulled the car up to merchandise pick-up, loaded our booty into the car, and were back home in bed by 5:30. We are happy we got such a great deal on a TV, but not happy about what we had to endure to do so. And I hate what Black Friday turned me into. I can't say I'll never go shopping on Black Friday ever again, but I hope to avoid it at all costs. For one thing, I don't ever want to let something as silly as a good deal on a TV consume me enough to turn me into a selfish person. I don't want to see other people as nothing more than obstacles to my own happiness. I don't want to be "that guy" who doesn't care about other people. One thing is certain: now, when I set up that new TV, I will pray for forgiveness for my own selfishness, and I will remember that my happiness should never come at the expense of someone else's.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Anam Cara: Part 2 of Several
An Anam Cara is a soul friend. Join me as I share experiences of soul friends that have walked with me in my continuing journey of faith.
My name is Erik, I’m a pastor, I enjoy reading, cooking, going to ball games, and long, slow, reaffirmation of baptismal covenant services on the beach.
The first time I attended such a service, I was in St. Lucia on a mission trip with my youth group. Our last night there, we headed to the beach for some evening relaxation and closing worship. One of the pastors at our church, Rev. Eric Park, led the service, which was centered on reaffirmation of our baptismal covenants and the celebration of Holy Communion. I will never forget that service, particularly because of the way the sacrament of communion was served.
Imagine the sight of 80 senior high youth and adult leaders, worshipping on a Caribbean beach. Now imagine Eric, a bowling ball of a man, leading the service while standing knee deep in the ocean, holding the elements of bread and wine in his outstretched arms and inviting us to the Lord’s Supper. Imagine further that Eric is wearing athletic shorts, a Scooby Doo cut-off t-shirt, and a bandana on his head. This is the scene of one of the most memorable and comical experiences of communion in my life.
Before then, I had received communion countless times. But until that night, I had never seen it administered by someone wearing sleeveless Scooby Doo vestments. Then again, Eric is the type of guy who, as an adult, still reads comic books and watches cartoons, so none of us were in any way surprised at his attire.
As a high school student, I had already begun to sense a call to ordained ministry. However, I was a teenager, so I wasn’t really sure what it all meant. I needed guidance on the matter. Though my parents were pastors themselves, our conversations on the subject seemed guarded. It was almost as if my parents wanted to support my potential call to ministry, but maintain enough distance that I didn’t feel any added pressure to follow in their footsteps. So Eric began to be a person I turned to for guidance.
Occasionally, I would swing by the church after school to chat with Eric. He shared his passions for Star Trek and comic books with me, and I shared my passion for baseball with him. We found (and still find) common ground with Duke basketball, Steelers football, Seinfeld, and a desire to follow Jesus Christ. And sometimes, we would discuss my call to ministry. Eric gave me a lot of great advice, some of which I remember and some of which I’m sure I have long forgotten. Over the years, Eric has remained somewhat of a mentor for me, particularly now that I have begun to fulfill my calling back here in Western PA as one of his colleagues.
Of the many things Eric has taught me, one very important lesson came on that warm summer night on the beach in St. Lucia. That night, as a high school senior, I learned that to be a pastor does not mean one must sacrifice his or her identity. Eric surely knows when wearing the image of a cartoon dog is acceptable, and when a clergy robe is more appropriate for administration of sacraments. But he did teach me that sometimes, we pastors need to let our personalities shine through. Just because I am now a pastor does not mean I must sacrifice who I am, hobbies and wardrobe included. This I know because of a pastor willing to adorn a cut-off t-shirt while administering communion.
On the eve of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for many anam caras, but I am especially thankful for Eric and the important lessons he continues to teach me. How he spells his name may clearly be inferior to the way I spell mine, but I am thankful to have a colleague and a brother in Christ like Eric Park.
My name is Erik, I’m a pastor, I enjoy reading, cooking, going to ball games, and long, slow, reaffirmation of baptismal covenant services on the beach.
The first time I attended such a service, I was in St. Lucia on a mission trip with my youth group. Our last night there, we headed to the beach for some evening relaxation and closing worship. One of the pastors at our church, Rev. Eric Park, led the service, which was centered on reaffirmation of our baptismal covenants and the celebration of Holy Communion. I will never forget that service, particularly because of the way the sacrament of communion was served.
Imagine the sight of 80 senior high youth and adult leaders, worshipping on a Caribbean beach. Now imagine Eric, a bowling ball of a man, leading the service while standing knee deep in the ocean, holding the elements of bread and wine in his outstretched arms and inviting us to the Lord’s Supper. Imagine further that Eric is wearing athletic shorts, a Scooby Doo cut-off t-shirt, and a bandana on his head. This is the scene of one of the most memorable and comical experiences of communion in my life.
Before then, I had received communion countless times. But until that night, I had never seen it administered by someone wearing sleeveless Scooby Doo vestments. Then again, Eric is the type of guy who, as an adult, still reads comic books and watches cartoons, so none of us were in any way surprised at his attire.
As a high school student, I had already begun to sense a call to ordained ministry. However, I was a teenager, so I wasn’t really sure what it all meant. I needed guidance on the matter. Though my parents were pastors themselves, our conversations on the subject seemed guarded. It was almost as if my parents wanted to support my potential call to ministry, but maintain enough distance that I didn’t feel any added pressure to follow in their footsteps. So Eric began to be a person I turned to for guidance.
Occasionally, I would swing by the church after school to chat with Eric. He shared his passions for Star Trek and comic books with me, and I shared my passion for baseball with him. We found (and still find) common ground with Duke basketball, Steelers football, Seinfeld, and a desire to follow Jesus Christ. And sometimes, we would discuss my call to ministry. Eric gave me a lot of great advice, some of which I remember and some of which I’m sure I have long forgotten. Over the years, Eric has remained somewhat of a mentor for me, particularly now that I have begun to fulfill my calling back here in Western PA as one of his colleagues.
Of the many things Eric has taught me, one very important lesson came on that warm summer night on the beach in St. Lucia. That night, as a high school senior, I learned that to be a pastor does not mean one must sacrifice his or her identity. Eric surely knows when wearing the image of a cartoon dog is acceptable, and when a clergy robe is more appropriate for administration of sacraments. But he did teach me that sometimes, we pastors need to let our personalities shine through. Just because I am now a pastor does not mean I must sacrifice who I am, hobbies and wardrobe included. This I know because of a pastor willing to adorn a cut-off t-shirt while administering communion.
On the eve of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for many anam caras, but I am especially thankful for Eric and the important lessons he continues to teach me. How he spells his name may clearly be inferior to the way I spell mine, but I am thankful to have a colleague and a brother in Christ like Eric Park.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Label Makers
Sermon for Christ the King Sunday
November 22, 2009
Scripture: John 18:33-37
Have you ever gone into work, first thing in the morning, and been met at the door with some seemingly trivial issue or problem that needs immediate attention? Or have you ever woken up on your day off to the sound of your children calling out to you to settle a monumental dispute over who gets the toy at the bottom of the cereal box? None of us like days that start like this. And when our day starts with trivial disputes and issues that supposedly need our immediate attention, we begin to expect a really bad day on our hands.
Well, this is kinda how Pilate feels in this morning’s Gospel lesson. It’s early in the morning, and he’s just reported to work as a Roman official on assignment in Judea, and he’s immediately being pestered with what looks like an insignificant conflict. The local Jews want Pilate to crucify one of their own, some man they call Jesus of Nazareth. The Jews were not much threat to the Roman empire at that time, but before Pilate even has a chance to grab his morning coffee, they are starting his day with a petty argument. I can only imagine him rolling his eyes as he arrives at the praetorium, finding this angry mob of Jews who are about to waste his morning. And immediately, the wheels begin to turn in Pilate’s mind – how can I avoid dealing with these Jews’ petty argument?
On the other hand, he realizes that if he completely ignores the issue, he might have a bit of an insurrection on his hands. If he blows off the Jews, he might do more harm than good. And to add to that, the man in question, this Jesus of Nazareth, is rumored to be some kind of big-shot leader around these parts. Some are even going so far to call him a king. And if he really does have that kind of power – if he really is a king among the Jews – then this insignificant issue may soon become a very significant threat to the Roman empire. And so Pilate realizes that he must deal with this small problem so that it doesn’t turn into a real political threat to Roman rule.
Pilate’s first question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” is his attempt to gauge the threat level of the situation. Is this a red level threat or not? Does this man standing in front of him have political clout or not? Is he able to make the Jewish nation turn against Rome or not? Simply put, Pilate is trying to determine whether this conflict is worth his time so early in the work day.
Yet, Jesus answers a question with a question. He does this ALL THE TIME in the Gospels, and boy it must’ve been irritating to his hearers:
“Are you the King of the Jews?” says Pilate.
And Jesus responds, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Essentially, Jesus wants Pilate to admit his motives for asking a question about kingship. And Pilate, in an attempt to avoid directly answering the question, actually reveals his motives quite well when he replies, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.”
Thus, we see that Pilate is defining kingship by the usual definition – in political terms. He’s trying to figure out if Jesus is really a political leader of the Jewish nation-state, and if so, how much authority might he have? And furthermore, how much does that political authority threaten the authority of the Roman government for whom Pilate works? Everything Pilate asks and says in this conversation is about politics. He labels Jesus as a king – a label of political status and authority. And he also labels Jesus as a Jew – a characterization, in Pilate’s mind, of political allegiance, of citizenship to a nation state, NOT the religious label it might sound like to us. But as you and I know, labeling or categorizing other people is a difficult and often confusing exercise.
In the past, I have been labeled, in good ways, bad ways, and neutral ways. I have, in my office, the results of the Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator, which labels me as an “INFJ” personality. Last year, I attended a mandatory seminar with the conference that determined that I was an “amiable driver” when relating with others. When I first came to town, I was categorized as a “new young pastor,” which carried expectations that, to the disappointment of some, was not met. And when I go to ecumenical gatherings, I sometimes literally wear the label “United Methodist” under my name.
But some labels I’ve been assigned are a bit trickier. When I started college, I was quickly categorized under the blanket term “liberal,” whatever that means. Yet in seminary, I was just as quickly categorized as a “conservative,” whatever that means too. I personally have never cared for these political and sometimes theological labels of conservative or liberal, primarily because it creates false assumptions about a person’s opinions and beliefs, and blinds us from getting to know the person themselves. Plus, I’ve often found that such labels depend more on the opinions of those around me than on my own thoughts and opinions.
This is why I’ve always shied away from boxing people in completely with labels or categorizing, because sometimes we have different ideas about what those labels mean. We may use labels to help us identify some characteristics, ways of relating, and personal opinions in those that we meet. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but we must be cautious with labeling other people. Because although I am a United Methodist, that is not all I am. And my understanding of United Methodist and your understanding of United Methodist may be different. Although I am an INFJ, which includes the sub-categorization of me as someone who is more “feeling” than “thinking”, this doesn’t mean that I don’t ever think, or that there aren’t times that I value thoughts over feelings. And I might act like an amiable driver in many social situations, but I’m sure there are times that I do not act like an amiable driver at all. And although I am a pastor, the word “pastor” might mean different things to different people. So labels are one way to help us define each other, but they are not the only way to define someone – especially when the meanings of labels are not always universally agreed upon.
Pilate, when using the term “king,” has one idea about what the words king and kingdom mean. However, Jesus has an entirely different view of king and kingdom. For Pilate, a king is a political ruler with total authority over a geographical region, called a kingdom. This is the worldview of king and kingdom – a political leader of a political reality. King and kingdom are purely political terms. But in this Gospel, this kingship talk is somewhat foreign to Jesus. While in the Synoptic Gospels Jesus talks about God’s kingdom a great deal, here in John’s Gospel there are only 2 brief conversations in which the words king and kingdom are mentioned. In John’s Gospel, Jesus is less concerned about political terms and realities of kingdoms and kings, and more concerned with the theological reality of truth.
Jesus Christ did not come into this world to get engaged in our earthly obsession with politics, or our need to create labels for each other. Instead, Jesus Christ came into this world to represent God’s truth and testify to that truth. And that truth is what we affirm every Sunday: that Jesus Christ is of one being with the Father, that for us and for our salvation, he came down from heaven, assumed human form, was crucified, and then resurrected. We acknowledge that only by the grace of God, through these loving acts, all people are offered salvation. And all people, no matter what labels are placed on them, are freely and lovingly offered salvation through Jesus Christ.
I fear that sometimes, in our hurry to label and categorize each other with human, worldly terms, we make the same mistake as Pilate does here. Perhaps, in our need to always have labels for each other, we create a culture in which we are defined only by the labels assigned to us, rather than the person that God has created us to be. But in calling Pilate to think beyond political labels, I wonder if Jesus is calling all of us to move beyond the worldly labels we have created for each other. And I can’t help but think what might happen if we threw away the proverbial label-makers in our mind. What if we moved past the personality and relational labels: extrovert or introvert, argumentative or agreeable, driver or expressive? What if we moved past labels of status: wealthy or poor, superior or subordinate, success or failure? What if we moved beyond political labels: conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat, traditionalist or reformer? What if we could finally break free of religious labels: United Methodist or Lutheran, Catholic or Protestant, Christian or Muslim, Jew or Hindu?
Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, every single person is offered the chance to belong to him – to belong to the truth. God longs for each of us to bear but one label on our hearts – one who belongs to God. What if the only label we looked for in ourselves and each other was that label? What if we simply labeled each person we meet as someone who belongs to God? Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to make our messy world begin to look more and more like the kingdom of God where Jesus Christ is King – whatever that means. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
November 22, 2009
Scripture: John 18:33-37
Have you ever gone into work, first thing in the morning, and been met at the door with some seemingly trivial issue or problem that needs immediate attention? Or have you ever woken up on your day off to the sound of your children calling out to you to settle a monumental dispute over who gets the toy at the bottom of the cereal box? None of us like days that start like this. And when our day starts with trivial disputes and issues that supposedly need our immediate attention, we begin to expect a really bad day on our hands.
Well, this is kinda how Pilate feels in this morning’s Gospel lesson. It’s early in the morning, and he’s just reported to work as a Roman official on assignment in Judea, and he’s immediately being pestered with what looks like an insignificant conflict. The local Jews want Pilate to crucify one of their own, some man they call Jesus of Nazareth. The Jews were not much threat to the Roman empire at that time, but before Pilate even has a chance to grab his morning coffee, they are starting his day with a petty argument. I can only imagine him rolling his eyes as he arrives at the praetorium, finding this angry mob of Jews who are about to waste his morning. And immediately, the wheels begin to turn in Pilate’s mind – how can I avoid dealing with these Jews’ petty argument?
On the other hand, he realizes that if he completely ignores the issue, he might have a bit of an insurrection on his hands. If he blows off the Jews, he might do more harm than good. And to add to that, the man in question, this Jesus of Nazareth, is rumored to be some kind of big-shot leader around these parts. Some are even going so far to call him a king. And if he really does have that kind of power – if he really is a king among the Jews – then this insignificant issue may soon become a very significant threat to the Roman empire. And so Pilate realizes that he must deal with this small problem so that it doesn’t turn into a real political threat to Roman rule.
Pilate’s first question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” is his attempt to gauge the threat level of the situation. Is this a red level threat or not? Does this man standing in front of him have political clout or not? Is he able to make the Jewish nation turn against Rome or not? Simply put, Pilate is trying to determine whether this conflict is worth his time so early in the work day.
Yet, Jesus answers a question with a question. He does this ALL THE TIME in the Gospels, and boy it must’ve been irritating to his hearers:
“Are you the King of the Jews?” says Pilate.
And Jesus responds, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Essentially, Jesus wants Pilate to admit his motives for asking a question about kingship. And Pilate, in an attempt to avoid directly answering the question, actually reveals his motives quite well when he replies, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.”
Thus, we see that Pilate is defining kingship by the usual definition – in political terms. He’s trying to figure out if Jesus is really a political leader of the Jewish nation-state, and if so, how much authority might he have? And furthermore, how much does that political authority threaten the authority of the Roman government for whom Pilate works? Everything Pilate asks and says in this conversation is about politics. He labels Jesus as a king – a label of political status and authority. And he also labels Jesus as a Jew – a characterization, in Pilate’s mind, of political allegiance, of citizenship to a nation state, NOT the religious label it might sound like to us. But as you and I know, labeling or categorizing other people is a difficult and often confusing exercise.
In the past, I have been labeled, in good ways, bad ways, and neutral ways. I have, in my office, the results of the Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator, which labels me as an “INFJ” personality. Last year, I attended a mandatory seminar with the conference that determined that I was an “amiable driver” when relating with others. When I first came to town, I was categorized as a “new young pastor,” which carried expectations that, to the disappointment of some, was not met. And when I go to ecumenical gatherings, I sometimes literally wear the label “United Methodist” under my name.
But some labels I’ve been assigned are a bit trickier. When I started college, I was quickly categorized under the blanket term “liberal,” whatever that means. Yet in seminary, I was just as quickly categorized as a “conservative,” whatever that means too. I personally have never cared for these political and sometimes theological labels of conservative or liberal, primarily because it creates false assumptions about a person’s opinions and beliefs, and blinds us from getting to know the person themselves. Plus, I’ve often found that such labels depend more on the opinions of those around me than on my own thoughts and opinions.
This is why I’ve always shied away from boxing people in completely with labels or categorizing, because sometimes we have different ideas about what those labels mean. We may use labels to help us identify some characteristics, ways of relating, and personal opinions in those that we meet. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but we must be cautious with labeling other people. Because although I am a United Methodist, that is not all I am. And my understanding of United Methodist and your understanding of United Methodist may be different. Although I am an INFJ, which includes the sub-categorization of me as someone who is more “feeling” than “thinking”, this doesn’t mean that I don’t ever think, or that there aren’t times that I value thoughts over feelings. And I might act like an amiable driver in many social situations, but I’m sure there are times that I do not act like an amiable driver at all. And although I am a pastor, the word “pastor” might mean different things to different people. So labels are one way to help us define each other, but they are not the only way to define someone – especially when the meanings of labels are not always universally agreed upon.
Pilate, when using the term “king,” has one idea about what the words king and kingdom mean. However, Jesus has an entirely different view of king and kingdom. For Pilate, a king is a political ruler with total authority over a geographical region, called a kingdom. This is the worldview of king and kingdom – a political leader of a political reality. King and kingdom are purely political terms. But in this Gospel, this kingship talk is somewhat foreign to Jesus. While in the Synoptic Gospels Jesus talks about God’s kingdom a great deal, here in John’s Gospel there are only 2 brief conversations in which the words king and kingdom are mentioned. In John’s Gospel, Jesus is less concerned about political terms and realities of kingdoms and kings, and more concerned with the theological reality of truth.
Jesus Christ did not come into this world to get engaged in our earthly obsession with politics, or our need to create labels for each other. Instead, Jesus Christ came into this world to represent God’s truth and testify to that truth. And that truth is what we affirm every Sunday: that Jesus Christ is of one being with the Father, that for us and for our salvation, he came down from heaven, assumed human form, was crucified, and then resurrected. We acknowledge that only by the grace of God, through these loving acts, all people are offered salvation. And all people, no matter what labels are placed on them, are freely and lovingly offered salvation through Jesus Christ.
I fear that sometimes, in our hurry to label and categorize each other with human, worldly terms, we make the same mistake as Pilate does here. Perhaps, in our need to always have labels for each other, we create a culture in which we are defined only by the labels assigned to us, rather than the person that God has created us to be. But in calling Pilate to think beyond political labels, I wonder if Jesus is calling all of us to move beyond the worldly labels we have created for each other. And I can’t help but think what might happen if we threw away the proverbial label-makers in our mind. What if we moved past the personality and relational labels: extrovert or introvert, argumentative or agreeable, driver or expressive? What if we moved past labels of status: wealthy or poor, superior or subordinate, success or failure? What if we moved beyond political labels: conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat, traditionalist or reformer? What if we could finally break free of religious labels: United Methodist or Lutheran, Catholic or Protestant, Christian or Muslim, Jew or Hindu?
Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, every single person is offered the chance to belong to him – to belong to the truth. God longs for each of us to bear but one label on our hearts – one who belongs to God. What if the only label we looked for in ourselves and each other was that label? What if we simply labeled each person we meet as someone who belongs to God? Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to make our messy world begin to look more and more like the kingdom of God where Jesus Christ is King – whatever that means. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Anam Cara: Part 1 of Several
An Anam Cara is a soul friend. Join me as I share experiences of soul friends that have walked with me in my continuing journey of faith.
When I was in college, I attended the United Methodist Church in our college town, Ada First UMC. The pastor there is Rev. Wayne Albertson. Wayne is a small man, even smaller than me. In fact, it seemed as though his tousled gray hair and the long, scraggly beard hanging halfway to his chest were a futile effort to keep him from getting swept away in the fierce winds of the Midwest plains. And yet, in that small, aging body lives an ever-growing mind and an unimaginably large heart.
Almost every Sunday morning, I would meet some friends for breakfast at the coffee shop, and we would wander over to the 10:30 service at Ada First. And every Sunday, I walked in with anticipation. I was eager to see what hymns we would be singing – Wayne always had a knack for choosing beautiful music that called us to worship. I’d count down the minutes until the choir would unleash yet another heavenly anthem from the very high choir loft. I was giddy as the sermon began, because I knew Wayne was about to tell some grandfatherly story that would perfectly sum up the call that the scripture had placed on our lives that week. But as wonderful as the worship at Ada First was, the part I always looked forward to most was our departure.
I say this not because I couldn’t wait to get out of the church. And despite what many of you might be thinking, I was not eager to get home so as not to miss the kickoff of the Steelers’ games. No, I couldn’t wait for the service to end because I desperately wanted a hug.
That’s right, a hug. While every other pastor I’ve had has shaken the hands of congregants as they left worship, Wayne clogged the pastoral receiving line with hug…after hug…after hug. But I always waited in line for my hug. Almost everyone waited. Sometimes on crowded Sundays, I had to wait 5 or 10 minutes for my hug. Yet every Sunday, for a sacred moment each week, I shared a loving embrace with a smiling, bearded pastor in a sleepy Midwestern town. It was, without fail, the highlight of my week.
I still remember Wayne hugs. He would hug me with more might than one would expect from such a small body. Somewhat annoyingly, his beard would always scratch up against my face. And after the embrace, he’d always hold his embrace at arm’s length, for just a moment, and look directly into the person’s eyes with total, unconditional, Christian love.
I don’t see Wayne that often anymore, but from time to time our lives cross paths for an hour, an afternoon, or a weekend. And when we see each other, we always begin and end our time with an embrace. He still squeezes pretty hard. His beard still irritates my cheek. And he still locks eyes with me. And in those embraces, nothing else matters. In those times, I am sharing a sacred moment with Wayne, a true anam cara, a soul friend. I am thankful for many things in my life, and today I am especially thankful for “Wayne hugs.”
When I was in college, I attended the United Methodist Church in our college town, Ada First UMC. The pastor there is Rev. Wayne Albertson. Wayne is a small man, even smaller than me. In fact, it seemed as though his tousled gray hair and the long, scraggly beard hanging halfway to his chest were a futile effort to keep him from getting swept away in the fierce winds of the Midwest plains. And yet, in that small, aging body lives an ever-growing mind and an unimaginably large heart.
Almost every Sunday morning, I would meet some friends for breakfast at the coffee shop, and we would wander over to the 10:30 service at Ada First. And every Sunday, I walked in with anticipation. I was eager to see what hymns we would be singing – Wayne always had a knack for choosing beautiful music that called us to worship. I’d count down the minutes until the choir would unleash yet another heavenly anthem from the very high choir loft. I was giddy as the sermon began, because I knew Wayne was about to tell some grandfatherly story that would perfectly sum up the call that the scripture had placed on our lives that week. But as wonderful as the worship at Ada First was, the part I always looked forward to most was our departure.
I say this not because I couldn’t wait to get out of the church. And despite what many of you might be thinking, I was not eager to get home so as not to miss the kickoff of the Steelers’ games. No, I couldn’t wait for the service to end because I desperately wanted a hug.
That’s right, a hug. While every other pastor I’ve had has shaken the hands of congregants as they left worship, Wayne clogged the pastoral receiving line with hug…after hug…after hug. But I always waited in line for my hug. Almost everyone waited. Sometimes on crowded Sundays, I had to wait 5 or 10 minutes for my hug. Yet every Sunday, for a sacred moment each week, I shared a loving embrace with a smiling, bearded pastor in a sleepy Midwestern town. It was, without fail, the highlight of my week.
I still remember Wayne hugs. He would hug me with more might than one would expect from such a small body. Somewhat annoyingly, his beard would always scratch up against my face. And after the embrace, he’d always hold his embrace at arm’s length, for just a moment, and look directly into the person’s eyes with total, unconditional, Christian love.
I don’t see Wayne that often anymore, but from time to time our lives cross paths for an hour, an afternoon, or a weekend. And when we see each other, we always begin and end our time with an embrace. He still squeezes pretty hard. His beard still irritates my cheek. And he still locks eyes with me. And in those embraces, nothing else matters. In those times, I am sharing a sacred moment with Wayne, a true anam cara, a soul friend. I am thankful for many things in my life, and today I am especially thankful for “Wayne hugs.”
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Finding Solitude in Community
Greetings from Nashville, TN! I am spending my week at a clergy spiritual formation retreat through the Upper Room Ministries of the United Methodist Church. Clergy of many denominations, from all across the country, have gathered here to participate in Companions in Ministry 2 (CiM2). The purpose is to be nurtured in spiritual formation through clergy covenant groups, then leave here with the assignment of beginning our own clergy covenant groups when we return home.
So far, this week has been a welcome relief from my usual weekly rhythm. Instead of preparing and preaching sermons, I have been enriched by the sermons of others. While praying for others, I have been prayed for by my colleagues. I have sat in the back pew of a worship service, shared laughter as well as silence with my peers, and re-discovered my deep love and yearning for table fellowship. I have reconnected with old friends and made many new ones. I have even watched the World Series with a room full of baseball-loving pastors. It has been a productive week indeed.
One of the most enriching experiences I have had this week is the chance to listen to sermons and lectures by Trevor Hudson, a United Methodist pastor from South Africa. He has challenged us to being rather than doing, to living a cycle of grace rather than a cycle of works, and to following God out of loving, creative initiative rather than duty and obligation. Through his words, God has called me out for my incessant desire to always be accomplishing tasks like a dutiful servant. Through forced hours of silence, I have discovered that being left alone with my own thoughts is not as scary as I thought it would be. And I have re-ignited my love for journaling, a spiritual practice I have abandoned for the sake of being more efficient with my use of time, whatever that means.
My prayer this morning is that you find ways to retreat and re-connect with God as I have this week. Take a “spiritual health day” off work. Take a walk alone, letting your mind wander. Tap the stagnant energy out of your armpits, as we did during a morning meditation session. Rediscover the spiritual practices that call you into being God’s beloved. And find friends that can join you in a community of solitude. Find soul friends that will pray with you. Find soul friends that will keep you accountable. Find soul friends that create safe spaces for you to live and work and play and be as God has created you to be. I invite you, as Paul invites Timothy, to “join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace.” May the peace of Christ be with you today and always. Amen.
So far, this week has been a welcome relief from my usual weekly rhythm. Instead of preparing and preaching sermons, I have been enriched by the sermons of others. While praying for others, I have been prayed for by my colleagues. I have sat in the back pew of a worship service, shared laughter as well as silence with my peers, and re-discovered my deep love and yearning for table fellowship. I have reconnected with old friends and made many new ones. I have even watched the World Series with a room full of baseball-loving pastors. It has been a productive week indeed.
One of the most enriching experiences I have had this week is the chance to listen to sermons and lectures by Trevor Hudson, a United Methodist pastor from South Africa. He has challenged us to being rather than doing, to living a cycle of grace rather than a cycle of works, and to following God out of loving, creative initiative rather than duty and obligation. Through his words, God has called me out for my incessant desire to always be accomplishing tasks like a dutiful servant. Through forced hours of silence, I have discovered that being left alone with my own thoughts is not as scary as I thought it would be. And I have re-ignited my love for journaling, a spiritual practice I have abandoned for the sake of being more efficient with my use of time, whatever that means.
My prayer this morning is that you find ways to retreat and re-connect with God as I have this week. Take a “spiritual health day” off work. Take a walk alone, letting your mind wander. Tap the stagnant energy out of your armpits, as we did during a morning meditation session. Rediscover the spiritual practices that call you into being God’s beloved. And find friends that can join you in a community of solitude. Find soul friends that will pray with you. Find soul friends that will keep you accountable. Find soul friends that create safe spaces for you to live and work and play and be as God has created you to be. I invite you, as Paul invites Timothy, to “join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace.” May the peace of Christ be with you today and always. Amen.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Cat-napping
I apologize for my recent laziness in the blogosphere. Things have been relatively busy around here, and I haven't had the time or motivation to write anything. Hopefully, I'll be getting back to the theological reflections soon -- I've had many, but never got around to blogging them. For now, a life update for those of you who are interested.
Things are going well here. The church is beginning new ministries and improving existing ones. We've established a coffee hour on the sidewalk in hopes of attracting new visitors, but really just to be good neighbors in the community by offering free coffee. We just finished making flood buckets for UMCOR, and we're hoping to send the youth on a mission trip this summer. Internally, we're beginning a long overdue membership audit, designing a website, and hopefully starting up a men's group.
The biggest news in our household has been our adoption of 2 stray cats. They were both part of a litter of 5 living in a parishioner's yard. We named the male Chief, in honor of the legendary founder of the Steelers, Arthur J. "Chief" Rooney. The female is Koloa, named after an old sugar town in Kauai, Hawaii, near one of the places we honeymooned. We spent a lot of time hanging out in Old Koloa Town. Koloa is currently playing with the zipper on my sweater, which means at least she's not trying to attack the computer screen. Koloa's on the left, Chief is on the right.
The biggest news in Lisa's family is a new nephew in the Hess clan. We went out to Hershey a couple weekends ago to see Owen Robert Hess. He's a cutie. Here he is with the brand new parents, Brandon and Julie.
In a couple weeks, I'll be heading to Nashville for a program through the Upper Room called Companions in Ministry. It's a 2 year program focused on using clergy peer covenant groups for spiritual formation. One group will be a writers group, centered on spiritual formation through the discipline of writing. Considering my educational background and my passion for writing and journaling, I'm hoping to participate in that group.
Tomorrow will be the first Saturday since early May that I have nowhere I have to be. Between church events, weddings, trips, and other obligations, I've gone almost 6 months since having a "normal" Saturday lounging around at home, sitting on the couch holding only a book, a remote control, and my wife. Seeing as the forecast for tomorrow is much like today's - 40 degrees and raining - we're looking forward to what kids these days call a mini "stay-cation."
I close with a short rant about playoff baseball. Why are the games so late? I can't stay up till midnight every night to watch these games. And why are there so many off days between games? Of course, we all know the answer to this: TV ratings. Which means it'll forever be this way. Hopefully, by next fall I'll have DVR, and maybe I can tape the 2nd half of the games and watch them in the morning before I go to work. Until then, I can't watch exciting baseball because I have to go to bed. I feel like I'm 7 again.
Things are going well here. The church is beginning new ministries and improving existing ones. We've established a coffee hour on the sidewalk in hopes of attracting new visitors, but really just to be good neighbors in the community by offering free coffee. We just finished making flood buckets for UMCOR, and we're hoping to send the youth on a mission trip this summer. Internally, we're beginning a long overdue membership audit, designing a website, and hopefully starting up a men's group.
The biggest news in our household has been our adoption of 2 stray cats. They were both part of a litter of 5 living in a parishioner's yard. We named the male Chief, in honor of the legendary founder of the Steelers, Arthur J. "Chief" Rooney. The female is Koloa, named after an old sugar town in Kauai, Hawaii, near one of the places we honeymooned. We spent a lot of time hanging out in Old Koloa Town. Koloa is currently playing with the zipper on my sweater, which means at least she's not trying to attack the computer screen. Koloa's on the left, Chief is on the right.
The biggest news in Lisa's family is a new nephew in the Hess clan. We went out to Hershey a couple weekends ago to see Owen Robert Hess. He's a cutie. Here he is with the brand new parents, Brandon and Julie.
In a couple weeks, I'll be heading to Nashville for a program through the Upper Room called Companions in Ministry. It's a 2 year program focused on using clergy peer covenant groups for spiritual formation. One group will be a writers group, centered on spiritual formation through the discipline of writing. Considering my educational background and my passion for writing and journaling, I'm hoping to participate in that group.Tomorrow will be the first Saturday since early May that I have nowhere I have to be. Between church events, weddings, trips, and other obligations, I've gone almost 6 months since having a "normal" Saturday lounging around at home, sitting on the couch holding only a book, a remote control, and my wife. Seeing as the forecast for tomorrow is much like today's - 40 degrees and raining - we're looking forward to what kids these days call a mini "stay-cation."
I close with a short rant about playoff baseball. Why are the games so late? I can't stay up till midnight every night to watch these games. And why are there so many off days between games? Of course, we all know the answer to this: TV ratings. Which means it'll forever be this way. Hopefully, by next fall I'll have DVR, and maybe I can tape the 2nd half of the games and watch them in the morning before I go to work. Until then, I can't watch exciting baseball because I have to go to bed. I feel like I'm 7 again.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Spoiling a Good Thing
Sermon for Sunday, Oct. 4 (World Communion Sunday)
Scripture: Mark 10:2-16
I was sitting in my office a couple weeks ago, when I decided to look ahead and see what the lectionary readings were for today, World Communion Sunday. I imagined some wonderful scripture about unity in the spirit, loving one another, being at peace with our neighbors – something with a real unifying, loving message, something perfect for a Sunday in which we celebrate the worldwide nature of the Christian Church. Imagine my disappointment and surprise, then, when I discovered the nature of this morning’s gospel lesson. Divorce? On World Communion Sunday? Really?
“Maybe I’ll preach on the Old Testament text,” I thought to myself. But then I discovered the OT text is the story of Job losing everything. We’re 0 for 2 on easily preachable texts. So I turned to the epistle lesson – Hebrews. “Oh, I can make that work,” I said. But after awhile, I finally decided to preach on the Mark text, the discussions on divorce between the Pharisees and Jesus and the disciples and Jesus. After all, this is why I practice the discipline of lectionary preaching – sometimes I’m forced to preach texts I’d really rather not wrestle with from the pulpit. But that’s the hand we’re dealt today, and so we must begin our exploration into the subject of divorce.
Let me start by saying what this sermon is not. This sermon is not a polemic on one side or the other of the debate about whether or not divorce is okay for Christians. I will not stand here and tell you the moral standing of divorced persons, and I will not tell you that either side of the debate places anyone on moral high ground. As we see right off the bat in this text, the argument over whether divorce is permissible, proper, legal, or even Christian is the argument of the Pharisees. They wish to engage Jesus in debate and see who Jesus will side with. Such a Pharisaic debate is not our concern this morning. Jesus refused to get sucked into such a debate, and I will not allow us to get sucked in this morning.
Regardless of how you feel about the properness or morality of divorce, the reality is that each one of us knows someone who has been through a divorce at some time. Divorce is so common in our society that this is a fact that we cannot ignore – each of us knows someone affected by divorce. That is the first reality we must admit this morning. The second is that divorce is a human institution – it is a human concept, a human decision, a word serving as a label for one type of broken relationship. Divorce signifies a broken relationship with little to no possibility of reconciliation. There are times when marriages reach a point where divorce is really the only option.
And as with all broken relationships, there is a great amount of pain and hurt involved. This is the third and final reality we dace. Divorce is not some impersonal moral dilemma. It is a deeply personal, deeply troubling thing – and the hurting persons in the midst of that struggle should be our focus. So as Christians intent on sharing God’s love, our concern with divorce should not be whether it is the right decision, or whether it should be allowed. Rather, we are called first and foremost to concern ourselves with and to be in ministry with those who are hurting in these difficult times.
The Pharisees could not resist the human temptation to debate this moral dilemma of divorce. They ask Jesus, point blank, “As the leader of a new religious sect, what is your take on divorce? What’s your divorce agenda? Do you think it’s okay for people to get divorced?”
Jesus, sensing the Pharisees’ real motive is to test him, draws the attention toward the divorce laws found in the Torah – in Deuteronomy 24. As the Pharisees proudly assert, these laws written by Moses allowed a man to divorce his wife, even if the reason for divorce was that she wasn’t pleasing to him anymore. But then Jesus explains to them the reality about the divorce laws in Deuteronomy: Moses created these laws, not God. The men displeased with their wives created divorce, not God. And humans are concerned with the debate about divorce, not God.
These divorce laws in the Torah arose from human debates that Moses was called on to settle. As Jesus is teaching the Pharisees, the laws of Torah do not necessarily reflect God’s will. God doesn’t want divorce to occur. Divorce is never part of God’s plan. But what that REALLY means is that the actions that lead to failed marriages are never part of God’s plan. God created the covenant of marriage, and we humans created the covenant of divorce. We created it by failing to live up to God’s expectations. Very soon after God established marriage, we humans found ways to destroy those relationships, and to this day we humans do things that break the marriage relationship beyond the point of reconciliation. We commit adultery. We abuse our spouse – physically, verbally, or emotionally. We fail to treat our spouse as an equal partner. We fight with our spouses. We keep things from our spouses. We neglect our spouses. We tolerate our spouses rather than love them to the fullest of our ability. We act as the flawed people we are. And every marriage has flaws. Every marriage is damaged by our sinful, human actions from time to time. And none of that, whether or not it leads to divorce, was ever God’s will.
Our human sinfulness has brought divorce into the realm of possibility. And because of our human sinfulness, in some instances divorce is the only decision left. But here’s what Jesus is trying to get the Pharisees to understand: while we humans are concentrating on divorce, God is concerned with marriage. Our focus is in the wrong place when we get into the debate about divorce. The Pharisees focus is in the wrong place when they try to goad Jesus into the debate about divorce. Notice that when they ask Jesus his thoughts on divorce, he quickly moves the discussion to God’s thoughts on marriage.
You see, the Pharisees are asking the wrong question. They want to know what happens when a marriage has crumbled to the point where it cannot be saved. But Jesus points out God’s intentions for marriage, and that the real question they should be asking is how they can avoid marriages from crumbling in the first place. When we entrench ourselves in the debate about divorce, we neglect the more important issue: why are marriages reaching points of irreconcilable differences in the first place? What are we doing to create the human need for a Deuteronomical divorce law? More than focusing on broken relationships, we should be focusing on prevention of broken relationships.
If we followed God more closely in our marriages, Jesus wouldn’t have to weigh in on the divorce debate. If we took better care of our marriages, if we really loved our spouses like we should be, then Moses would never have needed to write up a process by which we can get certificates of divorce. If we just listen to God in the first place and actually love one another, this debate wouldn’t be a reality in our world.
It’s a matter of preventative care. The Pharisees only concern themselves with what happens when our marriages are deathly ill. But Jesus tells them that with the proper preventative care, sometimes the death of a marriage can be avoided. So the question before us is not about the location of divorce on the moral compass. We are not to be concerned with such frivolous debates in this arena. The question before us goes much deeper. For those of us that are married, the question is, “What am I doing to strengthen my marriage? What am I doing to prevent this relationship from breaking down?” For those of us that are not married, the question is, “What am I doing to help others strengthen their marriages? What am I doing to prevent marriage relationships from breaking down? And if I do marry in the future, what will I do to build up that relationship rather than tearing it down?”
The reality we face today is that there are some things in our world that God simply doesn’t weigh in on. There are some things in our world, created by our sinfulness, that God does not give us a clear answer about. Divorce is one of those things. We are left to wrestle with the question on our own, without the straightforward answer we desire. We may not like it, and we may not understand it, but try as we might, we can’t always get God to answers the questions we bring before the throne. All we can do is seek to live into God’s will for our lives, seek to live in relationships that never require an end, and most of all, the best thing for us to do is seek to live in peace with one another. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scripture: Mark 10:2-16
I was sitting in my office a couple weeks ago, when I decided to look ahead and see what the lectionary readings were for today, World Communion Sunday. I imagined some wonderful scripture about unity in the spirit, loving one another, being at peace with our neighbors – something with a real unifying, loving message, something perfect for a Sunday in which we celebrate the worldwide nature of the Christian Church. Imagine my disappointment and surprise, then, when I discovered the nature of this morning’s gospel lesson. Divorce? On World Communion Sunday? Really?
“Maybe I’ll preach on the Old Testament text,” I thought to myself. But then I discovered the OT text is the story of Job losing everything. We’re 0 for 2 on easily preachable texts. So I turned to the epistle lesson – Hebrews. “Oh, I can make that work,” I said. But after awhile, I finally decided to preach on the Mark text, the discussions on divorce between the Pharisees and Jesus and the disciples and Jesus. After all, this is why I practice the discipline of lectionary preaching – sometimes I’m forced to preach texts I’d really rather not wrestle with from the pulpit. But that’s the hand we’re dealt today, and so we must begin our exploration into the subject of divorce.
Let me start by saying what this sermon is not. This sermon is not a polemic on one side or the other of the debate about whether or not divorce is okay for Christians. I will not stand here and tell you the moral standing of divorced persons, and I will not tell you that either side of the debate places anyone on moral high ground. As we see right off the bat in this text, the argument over whether divorce is permissible, proper, legal, or even Christian is the argument of the Pharisees. They wish to engage Jesus in debate and see who Jesus will side with. Such a Pharisaic debate is not our concern this morning. Jesus refused to get sucked into such a debate, and I will not allow us to get sucked in this morning.
Regardless of how you feel about the properness or morality of divorce, the reality is that each one of us knows someone who has been through a divorce at some time. Divorce is so common in our society that this is a fact that we cannot ignore – each of us knows someone affected by divorce. That is the first reality we must admit this morning. The second is that divorce is a human institution – it is a human concept, a human decision, a word serving as a label for one type of broken relationship. Divorce signifies a broken relationship with little to no possibility of reconciliation. There are times when marriages reach a point where divorce is really the only option.
And as with all broken relationships, there is a great amount of pain and hurt involved. This is the third and final reality we dace. Divorce is not some impersonal moral dilemma. It is a deeply personal, deeply troubling thing – and the hurting persons in the midst of that struggle should be our focus. So as Christians intent on sharing God’s love, our concern with divorce should not be whether it is the right decision, or whether it should be allowed. Rather, we are called first and foremost to concern ourselves with and to be in ministry with those who are hurting in these difficult times.
The Pharisees could not resist the human temptation to debate this moral dilemma of divorce. They ask Jesus, point blank, “As the leader of a new religious sect, what is your take on divorce? What’s your divorce agenda? Do you think it’s okay for people to get divorced?”
Jesus, sensing the Pharisees’ real motive is to test him, draws the attention toward the divorce laws found in the Torah – in Deuteronomy 24. As the Pharisees proudly assert, these laws written by Moses allowed a man to divorce his wife, even if the reason for divorce was that she wasn’t pleasing to him anymore. But then Jesus explains to them the reality about the divorce laws in Deuteronomy: Moses created these laws, not God. The men displeased with their wives created divorce, not God. And humans are concerned with the debate about divorce, not God.
These divorce laws in the Torah arose from human debates that Moses was called on to settle. As Jesus is teaching the Pharisees, the laws of Torah do not necessarily reflect God’s will. God doesn’t want divorce to occur. Divorce is never part of God’s plan. But what that REALLY means is that the actions that lead to failed marriages are never part of God’s plan. God created the covenant of marriage, and we humans created the covenant of divorce. We created it by failing to live up to God’s expectations. Very soon after God established marriage, we humans found ways to destroy those relationships, and to this day we humans do things that break the marriage relationship beyond the point of reconciliation. We commit adultery. We abuse our spouse – physically, verbally, or emotionally. We fail to treat our spouse as an equal partner. We fight with our spouses. We keep things from our spouses. We neglect our spouses. We tolerate our spouses rather than love them to the fullest of our ability. We act as the flawed people we are. And every marriage has flaws. Every marriage is damaged by our sinful, human actions from time to time. And none of that, whether or not it leads to divorce, was ever God’s will.
Our human sinfulness has brought divorce into the realm of possibility. And because of our human sinfulness, in some instances divorce is the only decision left. But here’s what Jesus is trying to get the Pharisees to understand: while we humans are concentrating on divorce, God is concerned with marriage. Our focus is in the wrong place when we get into the debate about divorce. The Pharisees focus is in the wrong place when they try to goad Jesus into the debate about divorce. Notice that when they ask Jesus his thoughts on divorce, he quickly moves the discussion to God’s thoughts on marriage.
You see, the Pharisees are asking the wrong question. They want to know what happens when a marriage has crumbled to the point where it cannot be saved. But Jesus points out God’s intentions for marriage, and that the real question they should be asking is how they can avoid marriages from crumbling in the first place. When we entrench ourselves in the debate about divorce, we neglect the more important issue: why are marriages reaching points of irreconcilable differences in the first place? What are we doing to create the human need for a Deuteronomical divorce law? More than focusing on broken relationships, we should be focusing on prevention of broken relationships.
If we followed God more closely in our marriages, Jesus wouldn’t have to weigh in on the divorce debate. If we took better care of our marriages, if we really loved our spouses like we should be, then Moses would never have needed to write up a process by which we can get certificates of divorce. If we just listen to God in the first place and actually love one another, this debate wouldn’t be a reality in our world.
It’s a matter of preventative care. The Pharisees only concern themselves with what happens when our marriages are deathly ill. But Jesus tells them that with the proper preventative care, sometimes the death of a marriage can be avoided. So the question before us is not about the location of divorce on the moral compass. We are not to be concerned with such frivolous debates in this arena. The question before us goes much deeper. For those of us that are married, the question is, “What am I doing to strengthen my marriage? What am I doing to prevent this relationship from breaking down?” For those of us that are not married, the question is, “What am I doing to help others strengthen their marriages? What am I doing to prevent marriage relationships from breaking down? And if I do marry in the future, what will I do to build up that relationship rather than tearing it down?”
The reality we face today is that there are some things in our world that God simply doesn’t weigh in on. There are some things in our world, created by our sinfulness, that God does not give us a clear answer about. Divorce is one of those things. We are left to wrestle with the question on our own, without the straightforward answer we desire. We may not like it, and we may not understand it, but try as we might, we can’t always get God to answers the questions we bring before the throne. All we can do is seek to live into God’s will for our lives, seek to live in relationships that never require an end, and most of all, the best thing for us to do is seek to live in peace with one another. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Threats from the Inside
Sermon for Sunday, September 27
Scripture: Mark 9:38-50
I remember one day in high school, when my friend Dan and I were driving out to the golf course. We were almost there when we came up behind a big truck, a pretty nice looking truck, driving slowly and kinda swerving a little. Now, it’s 11:00 am, a little too early in the day for this to be a drunk driver. But something had to be up. As we looked more closely, the driver was flailing around as he tried to drive. Something was obviously aggravating him. Finally, the truck stopped in the middle of the road, the door flung open, and the driver jumped out and flailed around some more. And what do you know? This is Matt Bianco, owner of the Bianco Baseball School. He was Dan’s private hitting instructor. So we got out and asked him what was going on. As it turned out, Matt had a bee flying around inside his shirt. So here was a man, driving a truck with airbags and other safety features, a vehicle big enough to protect him no matter what happened out there on the road, and he was driving on a windy road that people often took too fast. But the biggest threat to Matt’s safety turned out to be inside his shirt.
The story we find in the book of Esther is about perceived threats to the Persian Empire and its king, Ahasuerus, also known as Xerxes. Haman, the king’s highest official, persuades Ahasuerus that the Jews living outside the king’s walls pose a serious threat to the kingdom’s purity and integrity. So the king agrees to let Haman enact genocide against the Jews.
But as it turns out, the king’s newly chosen queen, Esther, is a Jew – although no one knows it. When Esther discovers that Haman has planned to wipe out the Jews, she brings Haman and the king together and persuades the king that Haman is a greater threat to the kingdom than the Jews that he wishes to eliminate from the empire. So Esther saves the day, as the king eliminates the threat of Haman within his walls rather than concerning himself with the threats outside his walls. Here is a man, sitting on a throne, being told by his top advisor of the need for ethnic cleansing to eliminate the dangers “out there,” and as it turns out, the biggest danger comes from the innermost circle of the king’s court.
The disciples of Jesus noticed someone outside of the established community of believers casting out demons in the name of Jesus. They were worried this unknown follower of Jesus would compromise the integrity of they the established followers of Jesus. How do we know this guy is really a follower? What will happen if we let just anyone do things “in the name of the Lord”? Isn’t it dangerous to have no control over who is and who isn’t considered part of Jesus’ community?
Jesus reminds the disciples that they themselves may pose a threat to the integrity of the community. It’s possible that even those within the established community of believers may be doing more to tear down the kingdom than those outside. After all, the outsider they tried to stop was able to cast out demons, which is something this inner circle of Jesus’ disciples weren’t even able to do. Here are disciples representing the established community of believers, fretting about the dangers outside the established boundaries. But as it turns out, the biggest threat to the kingdom of God lies within that already established community of believers.
“If any of YOU put a stumbling block before one of those little ones who believe in me,” Jesus says, “it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.” In other words, it’s possible for established members of the community to get in the way of those who seek God, and it might be best for the community if those stumbling blocks were chucked into the sea. We do ourselves no favors by ignoring the reality that there are threats to the kingdom of God within this body of Christ we call Church. Jesus continues:
If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell.
In other words, the path to God’s kingdom must be cleared of stumbling blocks, and the established community of believers has stumbling blocks living within its own boundaries. Some are hands, some feet, some eyes. And these stumbling blocks, these things doing more harm than good in the body of Christ we call Church, must be cut out.
Fred Craddock tells a story of his first pastoral appointment, in a town near Oak Ridge, Tennessee. When Oak Ridge began to boom with all the atomic energy research, that church’s little town became a booming city overnight. Every inch of open space in that area was filled with people who came from everywhere, pitching tents, setting up trailer parks, full of hard hat wearing folks from everywhere. The church wasn’t far away. It was a beautiful little white church, with a gorgeous chimney, hand-built pews, and ornate decorations on the walls. One Sunday, Craddock asked the leaders of the church to hang around after worship. He told them, “Now we need to launch a calling campaign and an invitational campaign in all these trailer parks to invite these people to church.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think they’d fit in here,” one of them said. “They’re just here temporarily, just construction people. They’ll be leaving pretty soon.”
“Well, we ought to invite them, make them feel at home,” Craddock said. They argued about it, time ran out, and they decided they’d have a vote the following Sunday. The next week, they sat down after the service, and one person said, “I move that in order to be a member of this church, you must own property in the county.” They got a second. It passed. Craddock voted against it, but was quickly reminded he was just the preacher and he didn’t have a vote anyway.
Years later, Craddock took his wife back to see the little church. It was different. The parking lot of the church was full, and there was a big sign out front: “Barbecue: All You Can Eat.” The church had become a restaurant. Craddock went inside. The pews were pushed to the side, the organ was pushed in the corner, and there were all kinds of people – families, truckers, bikers, all different kinds of people – sitting around eating barbecue. Craddock turned to his wife and said, “Good thing this is not still a church, otherwise these people couldn’t be in here.” A small congregation tucked away in East Tennessee, worried about all those outside people ruining their church, and as it turned out, the most dangerous people were the ones who ruined the church from the inside.
Sometimes, we spend so much time worrying about outside threats that we fail to see the threats from within. We worry about “those people out there” so much that we fail to see the ways we destroy the kingdom of God from “in here.” We guard ourselves against the evils “out there”: music that isn’t “Christian”, books that aren’t wholesome, movies and TV shows that possibly make our children think differently. We protect ourselves against temptations of gambling, drinking, or hanging out with the “wrong” people – those temptations that exist outside our approved, established community. Some of those “dangers” out there are real, and we do well to be cautious about them. But I fear we often make too big a deal about those dangers outside, as if these are completely to blame for what’s ruining the church.
Too many of us want to blame all the shortcomings of God’s kingdom on the evils of society. It’s the loose morals out there that are ruining the church. It’s the people out there that don’t come to church that are to blame for the church’s declining numbers. It’s the New Age-y books out there that are hurting the church. If it wasn’t for that noisy, immoral rock and roll music out there, God’s kingdom would be thriving. If we didn’t have casinos and bars out there, the church would be perfect. If those people out there let us keep the Ten Commandments outside the courthouses, and those school administrators out there had kept prayer and Creationism in schools, then there’d be no problems in the community of believers.
Surely, these things don’t help the cause of the kingdom. You can say some of them may even be real dangers from outside the boundaries of our community, dangers that do that threaten the kingdom of God. But why is it always everyone else’s fault that the church is struggling? Why is it always society’s fault if our children stumble and fall? Why is anything that hurts the kingdom of God always the fault of those people and those things “out there”?
Jesus is teaching us that if there are threats outside the established community, you can bet there are even more dangerous threats inside the established community. Perhaps we’re to blame for loose morals. Maybe some (or all) of us within the church are to blame for declining numbers – maybe we’re not being hospitable, and we’re not inviting our neighbors. Maybe in throwing out the negative aspects of popular culture, we refuse to see the good in it. Perhaps our kids’ music may make us want to scream, but it may lead them into deeper spirituality. Maybe it’s a good thing that schools won’t lead children in prayer or won’t teach them the stories of Creation, because that was never their job anyway. That’s our job.
What if we’re the ones who are the most dangerous? What if we are the biggest threat to the kingdom of God? Jesus calls us to consider placing some of the blame on ourselves rather than pointing the finger only at “those things” outside our walls. He’s calling the disciples – and us – to really evaluate whether we’re doing things “in his name” or whether we’re just stumbling blocks that would be better off drowning in the ocean. It’s a challenging question that Jesus asks us this morning, and I pray that we might have the courage to find the answer. Are the biggest threats to the kingdom of God coming from outside, or are they coming from within? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scripture: Mark 9:38-50
I remember one day in high school, when my friend Dan and I were driving out to the golf course. We were almost there when we came up behind a big truck, a pretty nice looking truck, driving slowly and kinda swerving a little. Now, it’s 11:00 am, a little too early in the day for this to be a drunk driver. But something had to be up. As we looked more closely, the driver was flailing around as he tried to drive. Something was obviously aggravating him. Finally, the truck stopped in the middle of the road, the door flung open, and the driver jumped out and flailed around some more. And what do you know? This is Matt Bianco, owner of the Bianco Baseball School. He was Dan’s private hitting instructor. So we got out and asked him what was going on. As it turned out, Matt had a bee flying around inside his shirt. So here was a man, driving a truck with airbags and other safety features, a vehicle big enough to protect him no matter what happened out there on the road, and he was driving on a windy road that people often took too fast. But the biggest threat to Matt’s safety turned out to be inside his shirt.
The story we find in the book of Esther is about perceived threats to the Persian Empire and its king, Ahasuerus, also known as Xerxes. Haman, the king’s highest official, persuades Ahasuerus that the Jews living outside the king’s walls pose a serious threat to the kingdom’s purity and integrity. So the king agrees to let Haman enact genocide against the Jews.
But as it turns out, the king’s newly chosen queen, Esther, is a Jew – although no one knows it. When Esther discovers that Haman has planned to wipe out the Jews, she brings Haman and the king together and persuades the king that Haman is a greater threat to the kingdom than the Jews that he wishes to eliminate from the empire. So Esther saves the day, as the king eliminates the threat of Haman within his walls rather than concerning himself with the threats outside his walls. Here is a man, sitting on a throne, being told by his top advisor of the need for ethnic cleansing to eliminate the dangers “out there,” and as it turns out, the biggest danger comes from the innermost circle of the king’s court.
The disciples of Jesus noticed someone outside of the established community of believers casting out demons in the name of Jesus. They were worried this unknown follower of Jesus would compromise the integrity of they the established followers of Jesus. How do we know this guy is really a follower? What will happen if we let just anyone do things “in the name of the Lord”? Isn’t it dangerous to have no control over who is and who isn’t considered part of Jesus’ community?
Jesus reminds the disciples that they themselves may pose a threat to the integrity of the community. It’s possible that even those within the established community of believers may be doing more to tear down the kingdom than those outside. After all, the outsider they tried to stop was able to cast out demons, which is something this inner circle of Jesus’ disciples weren’t even able to do. Here are disciples representing the established community of believers, fretting about the dangers outside the established boundaries. But as it turns out, the biggest threat to the kingdom of God lies within that already established community of believers.
“If any of YOU put a stumbling block before one of those little ones who believe in me,” Jesus says, “it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.” In other words, it’s possible for established members of the community to get in the way of those who seek God, and it might be best for the community if those stumbling blocks were chucked into the sea. We do ourselves no favors by ignoring the reality that there are threats to the kingdom of God within this body of Christ we call Church. Jesus continues:
If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell.
In other words, the path to God’s kingdom must be cleared of stumbling blocks, and the established community of believers has stumbling blocks living within its own boundaries. Some are hands, some feet, some eyes. And these stumbling blocks, these things doing more harm than good in the body of Christ we call Church, must be cut out.
Fred Craddock tells a story of his first pastoral appointment, in a town near Oak Ridge, Tennessee. When Oak Ridge began to boom with all the atomic energy research, that church’s little town became a booming city overnight. Every inch of open space in that area was filled with people who came from everywhere, pitching tents, setting up trailer parks, full of hard hat wearing folks from everywhere. The church wasn’t far away. It was a beautiful little white church, with a gorgeous chimney, hand-built pews, and ornate decorations on the walls. One Sunday, Craddock asked the leaders of the church to hang around after worship. He told them, “Now we need to launch a calling campaign and an invitational campaign in all these trailer parks to invite these people to church.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think they’d fit in here,” one of them said. “They’re just here temporarily, just construction people. They’ll be leaving pretty soon.”
“Well, we ought to invite them, make them feel at home,” Craddock said. They argued about it, time ran out, and they decided they’d have a vote the following Sunday. The next week, they sat down after the service, and one person said, “I move that in order to be a member of this church, you must own property in the county.” They got a second. It passed. Craddock voted against it, but was quickly reminded he was just the preacher and he didn’t have a vote anyway.
Years later, Craddock took his wife back to see the little church. It was different. The parking lot of the church was full, and there was a big sign out front: “Barbecue: All You Can Eat.” The church had become a restaurant. Craddock went inside. The pews were pushed to the side, the organ was pushed in the corner, and there were all kinds of people – families, truckers, bikers, all different kinds of people – sitting around eating barbecue. Craddock turned to his wife and said, “Good thing this is not still a church, otherwise these people couldn’t be in here.” A small congregation tucked away in East Tennessee, worried about all those outside people ruining their church, and as it turned out, the most dangerous people were the ones who ruined the church from the inside.
Sometimes, we spend so much time worrying about outside threats that we fail to see the threats from within. We worry about “those people out there” so much that we fail to see the ways we destroy the kingdom of God from “in here.” We guard ourselves against the evils “out there”: music that isn’t “Christian”, books that aren’t wholesome, movies and TV shows that possibly make our children think differently. We protect ourselves against temptations of gambling, drinking, or hanging out with the “wrong” people – those temptations that exist outside our approved, established community. Some of those “dangers” out there are real, and we do well to be cautious about them. But I fear we often make too big a deal about those dangers outside, as if these are completely to blame for what’s ruining the church.
Too many of us want to blame all the shortcomings of God’s kingdom on the evils of society. It’s the loose morals out there that are ruining the church. It’s the people out there that don’t come to church that are to blame for the church’s declining numbers. It’s the New Age-y books out there that are hurting the church. If it wasn’t for that noisy, immoral rock and roll music out there, God’s kingdom would be thriving. If we didn’t have casinos and bars out there, the church would be perfect. If those people out there let us keep the Ten Commandments outside the courthouses, and those school administrators out there had kept prayer and Creationism in schools, then there’d be no problems in the community of believers.
Surely, these things don’t help the cause of the kingdom. You can say some of them may even be real dangers from outside the boundaries of our community, dangers that do that threaten the kingdom of God. But why is it always everyone else’s fault that the church is struggling? Why is it always society’s fault if our children stumble and fall? Why is anything that hurts the kingdom of God always the fault of those people and those things “out there”?
Jesus is teaching us that if there are threats outside the established community, you can bet there are even more dangerous threats inside the established community. Perhaps we’re to blame for loose morals. Maybe some (or all) of us within the church are to blame for declining numbers – maybe we’re not being hospitable, and we’re not inviting our neighbors. Maybe in throwing out the negative aspects of popular culture, we refuse to see the good in it. Perhaps our kids’ music may make us want to scream, but it may lead them into deeper spirituality. Maybe it’s a good thing that schools won’t lead children in prayer or won’t teach them the stories of Creation, because that was never their job anyway. That’s our job.
What if we’re the ones who are the most dangerous? What if we are the biggest threat to the kingdom of God? Jesus calls us to consider placing some of the blame on ourselves rather than pointing the finger only at “those things” outside our walls. He’s calling the disciples – and us – to really evaluate whether we’re doing things “in his name” or whether we’re just stumbling blocks that would be better off drowning in the ocean. It’s a challenging question that Jesus asks us this morning, and I pray that we might have the courage to find the answer. Are the biggest threats to the kingdom of God coming from outside, or are they coming from within? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Lord of the Dance
At Annual Conference this past June, I was introduced to this:
As World Communion Sunday approaches on the liturgical calendar, I thought it was time to revisit the video. As I watched it yesterday, I couldn't help but smile. It is a tangible reminder that sometimes it's good to dance for no reason. True, some of us are worse dancers than Elaine on Seinfeld (more like a full body dry heave set to music), but that doesn't matter. So go ahead and dance. Really. It just might brighten your day.
As World Communion Sunday approaches on the liturgical calendar, I thought it was time to revisit the video. As I watched it yesterday, I couldn't help but smile. It is a tangible reminder that sometimes it's good to dance for no reason. True, some of us are worse dancers than Elaine on Seinfeld (more like a full body dry heave set to music), but that doesn't matter. So go ahead and dance. Really. It just might brighten your day.
Monday, September 21, 2009
It's All Who You Know
Sermon for Sunday, September 20, 2009
Scripture: Mark 9:30-37
On the way to Capernaum, the disciples of Jesus are having a rather interesting conversation. They are having a playful conversation about who among them is the greatest. We love this story – the disciples get caught arguing about their accomplishments by their teacher, and we point and laugh and say, “Oh, those silly disciples are at it again – what fools they are.” Because we know true followers of Jesus would never have an argument about who’s the greatest. And we know that we never fall into that trap.
I’m sure none of us are as silly as the disciples. We don’t have conversations at work about whether we’re the person that deserves the promotion. We don’t puff out our chests in pride claiming our nation to be “better” than all the others. And we’ve never argued which of one of us is the best karaoke singer, or who’s the tallest in the family, or even whether or not we’re a better ping pong player than our spouse. And surely, we don’t ever brag about how Pittsburgh is once again the “City of Champions.” No, Jesus would never catch us in arguments, playful or otherwise, about who is the greatest. Would he?
The disciples were not that much different from you and me. We make fun of Mark’s portrait of the disciples as bumbling idiots, as silly fools who are always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But placed in that same situation – going from simple, everyday fishermen to the inner circle of the Messiah – we too would probably think we’re on our way to greatness. The disciples had it made – they were climbing the corporate ladder, well on their way down the path to success, one step closer to greatness with every day they spent with Jesus. They had that natural human desire to achieve greatness, and figured it was sure to happen because they were close friends with Jesus Christ. Having such a close relationship with Jesus, a miracle worker and Son of god, definitely has created a self-righteous attitude of greatness buzzing around the disciples.
You see, the world back then was not much different than our world today. Back then, just as now, the perception is that being great is all about who you know. If you network with the right people, hang out with the right crowd, rub elbows with people who are already great, then certainly some of that greatness will extend to you by association. We may go about pursuing greatness in different ways, but we usually make sure that we know the people in power so that when the time comes, we may come into power as well. The disciples knew well that it is all about who you know, and they knew the most powerful, greatest human around. They knew the powerful Jesus Christ, the Messiah, and being around such a powerful person surely makes them powerful too.
But Jesus perceives their “power play.” He overhears their conversation about “who is the greatest,” and since Jesus never passes up a teaching moment, he pulls them aside and gives a lesson about true greatness.
“Whoever wants to be first,” Jesus says, “must be last of all and servant of all.” We’re more familiar with this “first shall be last” talk, since we see it in other places in scripture, but to the disciples, this is a new, foreign teaching. The first shall be last? What does that even mean? And again, the disciples just don’t understand. So Jesus takes a little child and holds it in his arms. He tells them, essentially, “If you really want to tap into God’s power and greatness, you’ve gotta make sure you’re hanging out with this child.”
Today, we read that verse in a very sentimental fashion. Aww, look at that, Jesus was good with kids. How cute. But don’t sentimentalize this passage. To the disciples, there is nothing adorable about Jesus spending time with a child. That’s for women to do. They spend time with the kids, while the men go out and try to improve their status in the world. The men cannot be bothered with women and children – association with them is not a worthwhile career move. Back then, children were not regarded in the same way they are now. Children were barely human – they had no status or power, so they weren’t really members of society and weren’t paid much attention to. Essentially, children were among that group of the least, little, last, and lost.
In this story, Jesus is not teaching the disciples how to be good Sunday School teachers or how to be good fathers. He’s not creating a “photo op” for the local papers. There will be no front page story with the headline, “Jesus takes time to visit local elementary school.” This is not the sentimental moment that we in modern times have built it up to be. This is a moment of Jesus caring for one who has no status or power to offer anyone. This is Jesus loving a little child for the sake of loving – not for his own gain at all. And for this reason – that he’s “wasting time” with someone who can’t help him be great and powerful – that Jesus truly becomes great and powerful.
French philosopher Charles de Montesquieu once said, “To become truly great, one has to stand with people, not above them.” And when I think of people that were truly great, I think of the people that stood with the powerless rather than above the powerless, just as Jesus welcomed a powerless child rather than dismissing it. I think of Martin Luther King, Jr., who had a lot of power and authority, but rather than using it for his own gain, he used it to gain the rights of others, and in doing so became truly great. I think of Mother Theresa, who could have spent her time hanging out with the big wigs at the Vatican, but instead devoted her life to the people – many of them children – who are literally living in the gutters of Calcutta, India. By hanging out with the least of these, she became truly great. And I think of Roberto Clemente, who was called “The Great One” not simply because of what he did on the field, but because of the great things he did off the field to help the poor, suffering, powerless people wherever he could. All three of these people, were they here this morning, would probably not want to hear me talking about their greatness. For they didn’t love people, they didn’t form relationships with people, in order to become great. They loved people because all people deserve love. All people, big or small, powerful or powerless, child or adult, deserve the love of Jesus Christ.
We look up to those who love the least in our world, because we know their love is genuine. We know that they love other people simply for the sake of loving, not for the sake of our own benefit. Jesus has nothing to gain by loving us, but does so anyway. And he wants us to return our love in the same way.
Imagine I come home one day with fresh flowers for my lovely wife, Lisa. I give them to her, and she smells them, and remarks at how pretty they are, and thanks me for being so thoughtful. Now I could respond in a number of ways. Here’s option #1: I could say, “Well honey, I love you, and I’m giving you these flowers because I want you to have them. They may not be quite as pretty as you are, but they’re a gift from me just because I love you.” That’s option #1. Pretty good, huh? Now, let’s look at option #2.
Option #2: She gets the flowers, she’s impressed with my thoughtfulness, and so I respond, “Well honey, I figured that I should probably get you flowers, and if I did, you might be willing to make dinner AND do the dishes tonight. So whaddya say? Let me know when dinner’s ready. After all, I did get you flowers!”
Now, which option do you think I should go with? Of course, it’s option 1. But sometimes, when it comes to our relationship with God or with others, we end up taking option 2. We go to church, we tithe faithfully, we try to help our neighbors, we donate to worthy charities, and we do so thinking that this will someday benefit us. We become preoccupied with being in relationship with others just to help ourselves. But what if someone did the same to us? What if others only looked at us in terms of how we could help them? Wouldn’t we feel used?
Jesus is feeling used by the disciples. He overhears their conversation, and perhaps he’s wondering if they’re just using him to get to God. Perhaps they just see him as a stepping stone on the way to the top, a rung on the ladder toward greatness. But in order to love him, Jesus says, we have to learn to love a child with nothing to offer. In order to be great, we have to spend time with the little people, literally and figuratively. In order to be in relationship with God, we have to love God and others genuinely, with no ulterior motives of greatness. The truly great people do not seek greatness. The truly great person is one willing to take a powerless child into his arms and care for it just because love is what we are called to do. The truly great person is one willing to love those who have zero social status, those who have no greatness of their own, but are still worthy of receiving the love of Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scripture: Mark 9:30-37
On the way to Capernaum, the disciples of Jesus are having a rather interesting conversation. They are having a playful conversation about who among them is the greatest. We love this story – the disciples get caught arguing about their accomplishments by their teacher, and we point and laugh and say, “Oh, those silly disciples are at it again – what fools they are.” Because we know true followers of Jesus would never have an argument about who’s the greatest. And we know that we never fall into that trap.
I’m sure none of us are as silly as the disciples. We don’t have conversations at work about whether we’re the person that deserves the promotion. We don’t puff out our chests in pride claiming our nation to be “better” than all the others. And we’ve never argued which of one of us is the best karaoke singer, or who’s the tallest in the family, or even whether or not we’re a better ping pong player than our spouse. And surely, we don’t ever brag about how Pittsburgh is once again the “City of Champions.” No, Jesus would never catch us in arguments, playful or otherwise, about who is the greatest. Would he?
The disciples were not that much different from you and me. We make fun of Mark’s portrait of the disciples as bumbling idiots, as silly fools who are always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But placed in that same situation – going from simple, everyday fishermen to the inner circle of the Messiah – we too would probably think we’re on our way to greatness. The disciples had it made – they were climbing the corporate ladder, well on their way down the path to success, one step closer to greatness with every day they spent with Jesus. They had that natural human desire to achieve greatness, and figured it was sure to happen because they were close friends with Jesus Christ. Having such a close relationship with Jesus, a miracle worker and Son of god, definitely has created a self-righteous attitude of greatness buzzing around the disciples.
You see, the world back then was not much different than our world today. Back then, just as now, the perception is that being great is all about who you know. If you network with the right people, hang out with the right crowd, rub elbows with people who are already great, then certainly some of that greatness will extend to you by association. We may go about pursuing greatness in different ways, but we usually make sure that we know the people in power so that when the time comes, we may come into power as well. The disciples knew well that it is all about who you know, and they knew the most powerful, greatest human around. They knew the powerful Jesus Christ, the Messiah, and being around such a powerful person surely makes them powerful too.
But Jesus perceives their “power play.” He overhears their conversation about “who is the greatest,” and since Jesus never passes up a teaching moment, he pulls them aside and gives a lesson about true greatness.
“Whoever wants to be first,” Jesus says, “must be last of all and servant of all.” We’re more familiar with this “first shall be last” talk, since we see it in other places in scripture, but to the disciples, this is a new, foreign teaching. The first shall be last? What does that even mean? And again, the disciples just don’t understand. So Jesus takes a little child and holds it in his arms. He tells them, essentially, “If you really want to tap into God’s power and greatness, you’ve gotta make sure you’re hanging out with this child.”
Today, we read that verse in a very sentimental fashion. Aww, look at that, Jesus was good with kids. How cute. But don’t sentimentalize this passage. To the disciples, there is nothing adorable about Jesus spending time with a child. That’s for women to do. They spend time with the kids, while the men go out and try to improve their status in the world. The men cannot be bothered with women and children – association with them is not a worthwhile career move. Back then, children were not regarded in the same way they are now. Children were barely human – they had no status or power, so they weren’t really members of society and weren’t paid much attention to. Essentially, children were among that group of the least, little, last, and lost.
In this story, Jesus is not teaching the disciples how to be good Sunday School teachers or how to be good fathers. He’s not creating a “photo op” for the local papers. There will be no front page story with the headline, “Jesus takes time to visit local elementary school.” This is not the sentimental moment that we in modern times have built it up to be. This is a moment of Jesus caring for one who has no status or power to offer anyone. This is Jesus loving a little child for the sake of loving – not for his own gain at all. And for this reason – that he’s “wasting time” with someone who can’t help him be great and powerful – that Jesus truly becomes great and powerful.
French philosopher Charles de Montesquieu once said, “To become truly great, one has to stand with people, not above them.” And when I think of people that were truly great, I think of the people that stood with the powerless rather than above the powerless, just as Jesus welcomed a powerless child rather than dismissing it. I think of Martin Luther King, Jr., who had a lot of power and authority, but rather than using it for his own gain, he used it to gain the rights of others, and in doing so became truly great. I think of Mother Theresa, who could have spent her time hanging out with the big wigs at the Vatican, but instead devoted her life to the people – many of them children – who are literally living in the gutters of Calcutta, India. By hanging out with the least of these, she became truly great. And I think of Roberto Clemente, who was called “The Great One” not simply because of what he did on the field, but because of the great things he did off the field to help the poor, suffering, powerless people wherever he could. All three of these people, were they here this morning, would probably not want to hear me talking about their greatness. For they didn’t love people, they didn’t form relationships with people, in order to become great. They loved people because all people deserve love. All people, big or small, powerful or powerless, child or adult, deserve the love of Jesus Christ.
We look up to those who love the least in our world, because we know their love is genuine. We know that they love other people simply for the sake of loving, not for the sake of our own benefit. Jesus has nothing to gain by loving us, but does so anyway. And he wants us to return our love in the same way.
Imagine I come home one day with fresh flowers for my lovely wife, Lisa. I give them to her, and she smells them, and remarks at how pretty they are, and thanks me for being so thoughtful. Now I could respond in a number of ways. Here’s option #1: I could say, “Well honey, I love you, and I’m giving you these flowers because I want you to have them. They may not be quite as pretty as you are, but they’re a gift from me just because I love you.” That’s option #1. Pretty good, huh? Now, let’s look at option #2.
Option #2: She gets the flowers, she’s impressed with my thoughtfulness, and so I respond, “Well honey, I figured that I should probably get you flowers, and if I did, you might be willing to make dinner AND do the dishes tonight. So whaddya say? Let me know when dinner’s ready. After all, I did get you flowers!”
Now, which option do you think I should go with? Of course, it’s option 1. But sometimes, when it comes to our relationship with God or with others, we end up taking option 2. We go to church, we tithe faithfully, we try to help our neighbors, we donate to worthy charities, and we do so thinking that this will someday benefit us. We become preoccupied with being in relationship with others just to help ourselves. But what if someone did the same to us? What if others only looked at us in terms of how we could help them? Wouldn’t we feel used?
Jesus is feeling used by the disciples. He overhears their conversation, and perhaps he’s wondering if they’re just using him to get to God. Perhaps they just see him as a stepping stone on the way to the top, a rung on the ladder toward greatness. But in order to love him, Jesus says, we have to learn to love a child with nothing to offer. In order to be great, we have to spend time with the little people, literally and figuratively. In order to be in relationship with God, we have to love God and others genuinely, with no ulterior motives of greatness. The truly great people do not seek greatness. The truly great person is one willing to take a powerless child into his arms and care for it just because love is what we are called to do. The truly great person is one willing to love those who have zero social status, those who have no greatness of their own, but are still worthy of receiving the love of Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)