About a month ago, Lisa and I made the switch to Directv as our cable provider. As part of that switch, we acquired the MLB Network as part of our channel lineup. The MLB Network is, in a word, heaven on a television screen. It provides baseball programming 24/7/365. As a huge baseball fan, I have enjoyed the new opportunities that exist for my viewing pleasure, including but not limited to:
- Prime 9: A countdown show listing the top 9 of a particular subject - catchers, characters of the game, pitching seasons, clutch hitters, etc.
- World Series highlights: so far, I've only watched the Pirates' colossal upset of the Yankees in the 1960 Series, capped off by Maz's walk-off home run in game 7.
- Studio 42 with Bob Costas: A diminuitive baseball fan who also happens to be a respected TV journalist sitting down with legends of the game and asking them to reminisce.
But more than anything, I've come to adore the network's airing of classic MLB games, ones that stand out as historic moments in America's National Pastime. The Pine Tar Game with George Brett and Billy Martin. The Carlton Fisk Game: Game 6 of the 1975 World Series. And currently, through the wonders of DVR, I'm slowly making my way through Game 7 of the 1991 World Series, where an aging Jack Morris faces a young John Smoltz in a pitching duel for the ages.
I know how this game ends. After Jack Morris pours his heart and soul into 10 innings of shutout ball, besting Smoltz's 8 shutout innings, the Twins finally push across a run with a pinch hit fly ball single by Gene Larkin, thus winning 1-0 and becoming world champions. I vaguely remember this scintillating World Series from my childhood, and now I am re-living it thanks to MLB Network. But why, you may ask, am I watching a game that was played 18 years ago, a game that has no element of surprise left, one that I know how it ends?
I watch it for the same reason I read stories in scripture time and time again. Historic baseball games, while memorable games standing by themselves, remind me that each game is part of a larger narrative, the sacred narrative of baseball. Game 7 of the 1991 Series is a great pitcher's duel, but it also signifies a moment cut out of the long story of baseball history, a story much longer and larger than the career of any man who has ever played the game.
In this particular game, we see a young Braves team, led this night by some kid named John Smoltz, a man who today in 2010 is perhaps at the end of a hall-of-fame career. The Braves here are a team on the rise, one that loses here in 1991 but will be back to the playoffs every non-strike-shortened season from this point through 2005. Brian Hunter looks like a middle schooler in this game. Chipper and Andruw have yet to arrive in the "Show." Even Bobby Cox looks much younger and leaner. Yet, Leo Mazzone sits next to him on the bench, rocking back and forth like always.
In the other dugout is the Twins, and they too are symbolized by their starting pitcher. Jack Morris is, in 1991, at the twilight of a very good career, one defined by tenacity, competitiveness, and an unwillingness to give in, even to manager Tom Kelly as he tries to remove him from this final game of the season. The Twins enjoyed success in the late 80's and early 90's, led by Kent Hrbek and Kirby Puckett. But as seen by the makeup of the 1991 team, a youth movement is beginning: Chuck Knoblauch at 2nd, Chili Davis at DH, and Scott Erickson emerging as a force in the rotation.
In this seventh game of the 1991 World Series, clearly the focus is on the starting pitchers. But on the edges, subplots catch my eye, moments that remind me how this one piece of baseball history is delicately woven into the sacred tapestry of baseball's history. It is for this reason that I enjoy watching classic games like this one. As a student of the game, through these memorable moments I begin to understand the larger narrative more fully. It is much like reading the book of Job as its own piece of literature, and then reflecting on how it fits into the larger narrative of humanity's relationship with the divine, or reading the stories of Jesus' birth as great stories of origins, and recognizing how it weaves together Old and New Testament texts almost seamlessly.
Above all, both scripture and classic baseball games remind me that we are all in the process of discovering our place in the narrative of humanity and its relationship with the divine. We seek and discern our call within the narrative, recognizing that we may not fully realize our role until our labors are a distant memory. But we dig into the batter's box nonetheless, anticipating the known yet unknown - we know there will be a pitch, but we know not what form that pitch will take. We swing the bat with all our might, hoping to make a connection - perhaps even one that will deliver us home for a celebration that will live on forever. And we circle the bases of life, wondering why we are here on this night, performing this task, and how it advances this over-arching story that envelops us all.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Jubilee
Sermon for Sunday, January 24, 2010
Scriptures: Leviticus 25:8-12, Luke 4:14-21
Lithuanians love basketball. So when our mission team arrived in the summer of 2000 to a United Methodist church in the slums of Kaunas, one of our first orders of business was replacing their old basketball hoop. In the parking lot of the church was an old, dilapidated basketball hoop. The frame was rusty, the backboard half missing, the net completely missing, and the rim was severely bent down due to years of slam dunk abuse. Yet the neighborhood teens played on – it was this hoop or nothing. But we Americans would not stand for such terrible athletic equipment, so we bought them a brand new hoop. The rest of our 2 weeks there, countless hours were spent in pickup basketball games between us and the neighborhood teenagers. Sometimes we played Americans vs. Lithuanians, sometimes we mixed it up. They trash talked us in Lithuanian, and we trash talked back in English, neither side understanding the other but all of us busting up laughing. And with this being my first trip out of the country, I distinctly remember being amazed at the connections we made on that basketball court despite the many differences between us. We were Americans from the suburbs of Pittsburgh, and they were Lithuanians from the slums of Kaunas. We were from different cultures, spoke different languages, ate different food, participated in different local customs. In many ways, we just didn’t connect with each other. But we quickly found that, all of us being around the same age, we enjoyed many of the same things – trash talking on the basketball court, hanging out with friends, chasing girls. And, if it wasn’t for a common connection to Jesus Christ through the United Methodist Church, we probably would never have met. And with those pickup basketball games, where cultural and language barriers threatened to divide us, we all shared sacred moments of fellowship with people that lived half a world away from us.
Seminarians love to argue. I remember many class periods when debates and arguments raged on for long periods of time. We’d debate the divinity of Christ. We’d argue over theology until we were blue in the face. We’d disagree over the proper way to minister with the poor. We’d challenge each other on ethical and moral issues. And arguments of all kinds would often spill out of the classroom and into the hallway, the courtyard, or the student lounge. But there was one place that those debates and arguments never happened: Cannon Chapel. Our worship space was used for more than worship, but we never used it as a forum for debate. No, we knew that a sanctuary was just that – a safe space. It was a space set apart as sacred, way too sacred to defile with our petty squabbles with each other.
The rhythm of a typical day at our seminary included morning classes leading up to an 11:00 worship service, followed by lunch, then a slew of afternoon classes. I always loved worship in seminary. We would spend mornings with each other debating and arguing the topic of the day, knowing that in large part our debates were fueled by all the differences among us. We had students from all around the world. We had students of all different Christian denominations. We were a smorgasboard of race, ethnicity, nationality, and culture. We had a variety of opinions, experiences, and lifestyles. We were all so different, yet we shared a desire to study and worship the one true God. I used to love the contrast between class and worship. One minute, we’d be arguing with each other over a theological tenet that seemed to take on ultimate importance, and the next minute we’d be singing “Marching to Zion” side by side. In the morning, we’d admit that we didn’t always understand or agree with each other’s life choices, but then we’d serve each other communion, and sit down to lunch together. Despite our many differences, we always found a way to rise above those barriers of race, class, culture, denomination, and lifestyle. And no matter what our relationships the rest of the day, worship was always a truly sacred time of glorifying God side by side with brothers and sisters in Christ.
The people of Haiti have suffered yet another great tragedy. I’ve been amazed these last couple of weeks how much people have been willing to reach out to the people of Haiti. I wish that we had all been better about it before the earthquake, but at least people are sending aid to the Haitians now. And it’s amazing how relief is coming in from all over the world, from religious as well as secular organizations, from individuals as well as governments. United Methodists are partnering with Muslims, Catholics and Protestants are singing hymns together on the streets of Port-au-Prince, and even the United States and Cuban governments have been cooperating to get aid to Haiti more quickly. In a country where a great tragedy has taken place, people are responding with sacred moments of jubilee, ignoring barriers and simply helping brothers and sisters in need.
Tibetan Buddhist monks know how to have a good time. I’ll never forget the day I learned this. The late afternoon sun was shining beautifully on the quad of Emory University, and in the patch of grass between the theological library and the ancient artifact museum, we were holding a fiercely competitive ultimate Frisbee game. As usual, we had to dodge all the passerby on the sidewalks, but on this particular day, there was one group of passerby we just couldn’t ignore. It was a group of 3 Tibetan Buddhist monks, complete with their traditional red and yellow robes and shaved heads. As the monks approached, they looked upon our Frisbee game with great interest. So, we invited them to play Frisbee with us. For the next 5 or 10 minutes, we just jogged around throwing the Frisbee back and forth with these Buddhist monks. There was a cultural barrier, a language barrier, a religious barrier, and even a wardrobe barrier, but we took a break from our competitive game and simply played with the monks. We pretended to play a real game, but the rules were suspended, and we weren’t keeping score or anything. But I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my life. It was, in one word, awesome. It was truly a sacred moment that I will never forget.
I’m guessing that the people who attended the synagogue in Nazareth on the day Jesus got up and spoke experienced an unforgettable moment as well. The hometown boy has returned, and is asked to read scripture in worship. He chooses Isaiah 61, and reads the following:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
Because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives,
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To let the oppressed go free,
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. Now the year of the Lord’s favor is a reference to the year of jubilee, which according to Leviticus was to be celebrated every 50th year. The year of jubilee was defined by many of the things proclaimed in this passage: good news for the poor, release to captives, freedom from oppression. The year of jubilee was a time when families were reunited, all debts were forgiven, and slaves were freed. For the year of jubilee, everyone was equal. The barriers that usually got in the way of human relationships – finances, disagreements, and exerting power over one another – were wiped clean. Every 50th year, jubilee was celebrated, and as it says in Leviticus, it was a very holy time. In the year of jubilee, people were, for a brief time, lifted above the barriers that separated them into a sacred moment of joy and fellowship with each other.
Here in the 4th chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus has come to proclaim jubilee once again. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he has come to wipe away all debts, eliminate our relationships of power with each other, put away all our disagreements, and reunite us with each other and with God. He has come to usher in God’s kingdom, available for everyone, and he announces to the worshippers that the kingdom of God will look a lot like the year of jubilee. The kingdom of God is defined by holy times of unencumbered relationships with each other.
That fall day when we played Frisbee with the Tibetan Buddhist monks, I remember thinking, “This is what heaven must feels like.” When I would attend worship with my classmates in seminary, I used to feel like together, we were lifted from the din of classroom arguments into a shared encounter with the divine. And over the last couple of weeks, I’ve looked upon all the relief efforts in Haiti and thought, these relief workers are truly the hands and feet of Christ. These stories I’ve shared with you are just a few examples of how, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we all experience jubilee moments in our lives from time to time.
Leviticus 25:12 defines a jubilee moment as a moment that is holy to us. Jubilee moments are holy moments, filled with the Holy Spirit, that lift us above the ordinary, above the differences, above the barriers. They are moments defined by an encounter with the divine, relating with each other simply as brothers and sisters beloved by God. They are even moments that give us glimpses of the glory of the kingdom of God. What are the jubilee moments in your life? Has the Holy Spirit led you to jubilee recently? Have you shared in holy fellowship as you’ve reunited with a group of friends? Have you put aside differences with relatives to share a meal together? Have you worshipped or served alongside someone of a different denomination? Have you played basketball with Lithuanians or ultimate Frisbee with a trio of Tibetan Buddhist monks?
I’d like for you to take some time to think about jubilee moments in your own life. When has the sacred lifted you above the ordinary? When have you felt the Spirit leading you into perfect relationships with your neighbors, even if just for a moment? When have you felt the presence of Jesus Christ providing you a moment defined by holiness and pure fellowship with your brothers and sisters? As you leave this place, think about your own experiences of jubilee. Write them down. Say a prayer of thanksgiving for those moments. And remember that those moments are the work of God, giving us glimpses of the kingdom of heaven by the presence of Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit.
And as you move forward, I encourage you to pay close attention for the jubilee moments in your life. Let the Holy Spirit continue to lift you at times from the ordinary and into the experience of the divine. Let Jesus usher in God’s kingdom for you, one jubilee moment at a time. For the year of the Lord’s favor is here. Let us proclaim and celebrate the jubilee moments in our lives. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scriptures: Leviticus 25:8-12, Luke 4:14-21
Lithuanians love basketball. So when our mission team arrived in the summer of 2000 to a United Methodist church in the slums of Kaunas, one of our first orders of business was replacing their old basketball hoop. In the parking lot of the church was an old, dilapidated basketball hoop. The frame was rusty, the backboard half missing, the net completely missing, and the rim was severely bent down due to years of slam dunk abuse. Yet the neighborhood teens played on – it was this hoop or nothing. But we Americans would not stand for such terrible athletic equipment, so we bought them a brand new hoop. The rest of our 2 weeks there, countless hours were spent in pickup basketball games between us and the neighborhood teenagers. Sometimes we played Americans vs. Lithuanians, sometimes we mixed it up. They trash talked us in Lithuanian, and we trash talked back in English, neither side understanding the other but all of us busting up laughing. And with this being my first trip out of the country, I distinctly remember being amazed at the connections we made on that basketball court despite the many differences between us. We were Americans from the suburbs of Pittsburgh, and they were Lithuanians from the slums of Kaunas. We were from different cultures, spoke different languages, ate different food, participated in different local customs. In many ways, we just didn’t connect with each other. But we quickly found that, all of us being around the same age, we enjoyed many of the same things – trash talking on the basketball court, hanging out with friends, chasing girls. And, if it wasn’t for a common connection to Jesus Christ through the United Methodist Church, we probably would never have met. And with those pickup basketball games, where cultural and language barriers threatened to divide us, we all shared sacred moments of fellowship with people that lived half a world away from us.
Seminarians love to argue. I remember many class periods when debates and arguments raged on for long periods of time. We’d debate the divinity of Christ. We’d argue over theology until we were blue in the face. We’d disagree over the proper way to minister with the poor. We’d challenge each other on ethical and moral issues. And arguments of all kinds would often spill out of the classroom and into the hallway, the courtyard, or the student lounge. But there was one place that those debates and arguments never happened: Cannon Chapel. Our worship space was used for more than worship, but we never used it as a forum for debate. No, we knew that a sanctuary was just that – a safe space. It was a space set apart as sacred, way too sacred to defile with our petty squabbles with each other.
The rhythm of a typical day at our seminary included morning classes leading up to an 11:00 worship service, followed by lunch, then a slew of afternoon classes. I always loved worship in seminary. We would spend mornings with each other debating and arguing the topic of the day, knowing that in large part our debates were fueled by all the differences among us. We had students from all around the world. We had students of all different Christian denominations. We were a smorgasboard of race, ethnicity, nationality, and culture. We had a variety of opinions, experiences, and lifestyles. We were all so different, yet we shared a desire to study and worship the one true God. I used to love the contrast between class and worship. One minute, we’d be arguing with each other over a theological tenet that seemed to take on ultimate importance, and the next minute we’d be singing “Marching to Zion” side by side. In the morning, we’d admit that we didn’t always understand or agree with each other’s life choices, but then we’d serve each other communion, and sit down to lunch together. Despite our many differences, we always found a way to rise above those barriers of race, class, culture, denomination, and lifestyle. And no matter what our relationships the rest of the day, worship was always a truly sacred time of glorifying God side by side with brothers and sisters in Christ.
The people of Haiti have suffered yet another great tragedy. I’ve been amazed these last couple of weeks how much people have been willing to reach out to the people of Haiti. I wish that we had all been better about it before the earthquake, but at least people are sending aid to the Haitians now. And it’s amazing how relief is coming in from all over the world, from religious as well as secular organizations, from individuals as well as governments. United Methodists are partnering with Muslims, Catholics and Protestants are singing hymns together on the streets of Port-au-Prince, and even the United States and Cuban governments have been cooperating to get aid to Haiti more quickly. In a country where a great tragedy has taken place, people are responding with sacred moments of jubilee, ignoring barriers and simply helping brothers and sisters in need.
Tibetan Buddhist monks know how to have a good time. I’ll never forget the day I learned this. The late afternoon sun was shining beautifully on the quad of Emory University, and in the patch of grass between the theological library and the ancient artifact museum, we were holding a fiercely competitive ultimate Frisbee game. As usual, we had to dodge all the passerby on the sidewalks, but on this particular day, there was one group of passerby we just couldn’t ignore. It was a group of 3 Tibetan Buddhist monks, complete with their traditional red and yellow robes and shaved heads. As the monks approached, they looked upon our Frisbee game with great interest. So, we invited them to play Frisbee with us. For the next 5 or 10 minutes, we just jogged around throwing the Frisbee back and forth with these Buddhist monks. There was a cultural barrier, a language barrier, a religious barrier, and even a wardrobe barrier, but we took a break from our competitive game and simply played with the monks. We pretended to play a real game, but the rules were suspended, and we weren’t keeping score or anything. But I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my life. It was, in one word, awesome. It was truly a sacred moment that I will never forget.
I’m guessing that the people who attended the synagogue in Nazareth on the day Jesus got up and spoke experienced an unforgettable moment as well. The hometown boy has returned, and is asked to read scripture in worship. He chooses Isaiah 61, and reads the following:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
Because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives,
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To let the oppressed go free,
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. Now the year of the Lord’s favor is a reference to the year of jubilee, which according to Leviticus was to be celebrated every 50th year. The year of jubilee was defined by many of the things proclaimed in this passage: good news for the poor, release to captives, freedom from oppression. The year of jubilee was a time when families were reunited, all debts were forgiven, and slaves were freed. For the year of jubilee, everyone was equal. The barriers that usually got in the way of human relationships – finances, disagreements, and exerting power over one another – were wiped clean. Every 50th year, jubilee was celebrated, and as it says in Leviticus, it was a very holy time. In the year of jubilee, people were, for a brief time, lifted above the barriers that separated them into a sacred moment of joy and fellowship with each other.
Here in the 4th chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus has come to proclaim jubilee once again. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he has come to wipe away all debts, eliminate our relationships of power with each other, put away all our disagreements, and reunite us with each other and with God. He has come to usher in God’s kingdom, available for everyone, and he announces to the worshippers that the kingdom of God will look a lot like the year of jubilee. The kingdom of God is defined by holy times of unencumbered relationships with each other.
That fall day when we played Frisbee with the Tibetan Buddhist monks, I remember thinking, “This is what heaven must feels like.” When I would attend worship with my classmates in seminary, I used to feel like together, we were lifted from the din of classroom arguments into a shared encounter with the divine. And over the last couple of weeks, I’ve looked upon all the relief efforts in Haiti and thought, these relief workers are truly the hands and feet of Christ. These stories I’ve shared with you are just a few examples of how, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we all experience jubilee moments in our lives from time to time.
Leviticus 25:12 defines a jubilee moment as a moment that is holy to us. Jubilee moments are holy moments, filled with the Holy Spirit, that lift us above the ordinary, above the differences, above the barriers. They are moments defined by an encounter with the divine, relating with each other simply as brothers and sisters beloved by God. They are even moments that give us glimpses of the glory of the kingdom of God. What are the jubilee moments in your life? Has the Holy Spirit led you to jubilee recently? Have you shared in holy fellowship as you’ve reunited with a group of friends? Have you put aside differences with relatives to share a meal together? Have you worshipped or served alongside someone of a different denomination? Have you played basketball with Lithuanians or ultimate Frisbee with a trio of Tibetan Buddhist monks?
I’d like for you to take some time to think about jubilee moments in your own life. When has the sacred lifted you above the ordinary? When have you felt the Spirit leading you into perfect relationships with your neighbors, even if just for a moment? When have you felt the presence of Jesus Christ providing you a moment defined by holiness and pure fellowship with your brothers and sisters? As you leave this place, think about your own experiences of jubilee. Write them down. Say a prayer of thanksgiving for those moments. And remember that those moments are the work of God, giving us glimpses of the kingdom of heaven by the presence of Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit.
And as you move forward, I encourage you to pay close attention for the jubilee moments in your life. Let the Holy Spirit continue to lift you at times from the ordinary and into the experience of the divine. Let Jesus usher in God’s kingdom for you, one jubilee moment at a time. For the year of the Lord’s favor is here. Let us proclaim and celebrate the jubilee moments in our lives. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
From Haiti With Love
As you might know, Lisa and I have a close personal friend, Michael Ritter, who lives in Haiti. Michael graduated high school with Lisa, attended Grove City College, then got his masters from Emory University's School of Public Health in Atlanta at the same time we lived there. Michael is what I call a public health missionary in Haiti. He works through an organization called Deep Springs International, which he co-founded while attending Grove City. DSI provides sustainable clean water solutions to the people of Haiti, and it is Michael's faith in Jesus Christ that calls him to serve in such an amazing and life-affirming way.
Since last week's earthquake, Lisa and I have been in contact with Michael a few times. But, as you might expect, he is busier than ever. Clean water was sorely needed before the quake, and it is needed even more now.
So, Lisa and I have mostly kept abreast of DSI's and Michael's post-quake experiences through two sources: the DSI website, and Michael's blog. (I linked to Michael's blog in my "Anonymous" sermon posted Monday, but he posted again this morning). I encourage you to read his 2 posts from the past week, and to subscribe to DSI's e-mail list for periodic updates.
Now more than ever, we must all educate ourselves and others about the problems in Haiti -- those stemming from the earthquake, and those that have been magnified by the quake. Let's go beyond "giving and forgetting." Let's keep Haiti in our prayers and our hearts for as long as it takes for restoration and wholeness to occur.
Since last week's earthquake, Lisa and I have been in contact with Michael a few times. But, as you might expect, he is busier than ever. Clean water was sorely needed before the quake, and it is needed even more now.
So, Lisa and I have mostly kept abreast of DSI's and Michael's post-quake experiences through two sources: the DSI website, and Michael's blog. (I linked to Michael's blog in my "Anonymous" sermon posted Monday, but he posted again this morning). I encourage you to read his 2 posts from the past week, and to subscribe to DSI's e-mail list for periodic updates.
Now more than ever, we must all educate ourselves and others about the problems in Haiti -- those stemming from the earthquake, and those that have been magnified by the quake. Let's go beyond "giving and forgetting." Let's keep Haiti in our prayers and our hearts for as long as it takes for restoration and wholeness to occur.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Anonymous
Sermon for Sunday, January 17, 2010
Scripture: John 2:1-11 (Jesus turns water into wine)
It’s stories like this that remind me how blessed we are to have 4 Gospels. Matthew, Mark, and Luke say nothing of Jesus’ winemaking in Cana, but thanks to John, we have the wonderful miracle story that is our Gospel lesson this morning. It shouldn’t be surprising to us, since John seems to pride himself on being the odd Gospel out, the story that’s more different than the rest. But there are things about this story that do surprise me, such as the fact that it serves as an introduction to Jesus’ ministry. The story of Jesus gracing a wedding at Cana with his presence – and his winemaking skills – is the first story John tells as the ministry of Jesus and the disciples kicks off. And what a fine story it is.
But, as tends to happen when I read scripture, I’m drawn to the lack of details that John provides. Sure, he gives us the exact number of stone jars and approximates the amount of wine for us – somewhere in the neighborhood of 150 gallons – but those details aren’t all that necessary. No, what intrigues me most about this story as we reflect on it this morning is all the details that are missing. It doesn’t take long for us to notice that the author has so carelessly neglected to mention who it is that is getting married, how many guests are there, or how far along they are in the traditional 7 day celebration.
But beyond that, John misses a chance for some real, eye-popping drama when he describes the miracle! The scene where the water is turned into wine is pretty lame, if you ask me. There is very little action that takes place. And this is surely the reason why, despite the sensational nature of turning water into wine, this story has yet to be made into a high-grossing Hollywood movie.
Open up your Bibles again and look at the story. All the dramatic moments are missing! First and foremost, the story completely skips over the actual turning of water into wine. Jesus instructs some servants to fill the jars with water, and then in the next scene, with the chief steward, the water “had become wine”! What happened? We don’t see any hand waving, mystical touching, or Greek chanting over the jars. There’s simply no “abracadabra” moment here! Jesus’ only act is to lovingly order around some poor, unsuspecting servants. Where’s the flair in that?
And for whatever reason, Jesus keeps quiet about his miracle. Not once does he take credit for his actions, nor does he insist that others recognize what he did. In fact, very few people even saw it as a miracle. Aside from the servants, the disciples, and Jesus, no one even knew a miracle had taken place. The party went on without a hiccup of any sort – no indication is ever given that the majority of the guests even realized that the wine gave out.
And I don’t know about you, but if I were Jesus I would’ve stepped up and taken credit. I mean, wasn’t he using this story to reveal his glory? According to his actions, that was not his concern at all. Think about it: The chief steward approaches the groom and commends him on his generous hospitality. Great job, son! You’ve saved the top shelf wine for late in the feast! You have provided enough wine to get the whole county drunk! Your hosting abilities speak very well of your character! And Jesus is standing there watching this whole conversation take place, the groom probably accepting the credit even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, and Jesus says nothing! C’mon JC, get up and tell them what happened! Tell them what you did! Proclaim the miracle that took place! Reveal your glory! Well, are you going to speak up or what?!
But Jesus never says a word. So, on we go with the party, new top shelf wine flowing freely, people dancing and drinking and having a great time together, completely unaware that any divine action has taken place to allow the party to continue. This is not the grand entrance that I would have written for Jesus’ public ministry, but then again, I was not the author of the Gospel of John. Still, I just can’t get over this burning question: Why doesn’t Jesus step up? This is John’s first public appearance by Jesus, but he proclaims nothing, reveals nothing, takes credit for nothing – all he’s doing is rescuing the wedding feast of a small town in Galilee.
Like many people this week, I sat in my office on Wednesday morning, the news of the earthquake in Haiti still developing, wrestling with the question of theodicy: Why would a good God allow human suffering to take place? Why would a good God allow an earthquake ravage the poorest nation on earth, affecting the lives of millions and claiming the lives of tens of thousands?
And why, in the midst of this terrible devastation in Haiti, am I sitting here reflecting on a story about Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding feast? The reading of this story coinciding with the events in Haiti left me feeling conflicted. Here are millions of suffering people, and Jesus is concerned about the amount of alcohol at a wedding???
Yet, we know that just because our God is making wine in one place doesn’t mean God can’t be somewhere else at the same time. We know that God is not limited to time and space and prioritizing like we are, and that just because empty bottles of wine are a crisis doesn’t mean that a natural disaster in Haiti is not a crisis. We know that God cares just as much for the people of Haiti as he does for the wedding guests in Cana, and God cares just as much for victims of domestic abuse as he does for victims of violent crime, God cares just as much for Christians as he does for people of other faiths, and God cares just as much for those who died in the quake as for those who survived. God does not prioritize – all the needs of the world, from the most trivial to the most urgent, are God’s greatest priorities. And when we see the images of the devastation and the desperate needs in Haiti, we begin to realize that a new miracle opportunity has materialized. And already, many of us are asking what we can do to help.
In the wake of these events, we have an incredible opportunity to be miracle workers. We have a chance to be servants of Jesus Christ, doing whatever he tells us to do, whether it’s assisting in the rescue of a kickin’ party or doing what we can to help the relief efforts in the coming weeks, months, and years. Although we are separated by thousands of miles, and we cannot travel there at this time for hands-on help, there are things we can do. We can lift up in prayer the millions of affected Haitians, emergency, disaster response, and relief workers, medical workers, and all other missionaries seeking to meet the overwhelming needs. We can educate ourselves about the struggles of the nation of Haiti, whose poverty was unparalleled even before this week. And, we can contribute to relief efforts. Today, we can contribute financially out of our abundance, and in the months and years to come there will be many opportunities to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ as we seek to help in more tangible ways.
I want to take a moment to talk about the connections this congregation has with Haiti, and the opportunities we have to strengthen those connections. First, you may remember that in January of 2009, a missionary named Michael Ritter visited our congregation. Michael is a close personal friend of me and Lisa, and he works to provide sustainable clean water solutions in Haiti. When he was here last January, he showed us pictures and told us stories of the devastation there. Even before the earthquake this week, Haiti was the poorest, most destitute nation in the world, which is the main reason why this earthquake claimed so many lives. The nation was simply not wealthy enough to withstand such a natural disaster like we would be able to.
Anyway, Michael happened to be in the Port-au-Prince area when the earthquake struck. He was about 30 miles outside of Port-au-Prince, staying in the rectory of a church in a town called Baudin. On Thursday, Michael wrote on his blog about his experiences this week. I encourage you to click here and read his reflections.
Secondly, I want to talk to you about our connectedness to Haiti through the denomination of the United Methodist Church. For instance, do you know that as a congregation, we have already supported United Methodist relief efforts in Haiti? That’s right. The United Methodist Church has a relief agency called UMCOR: The United Methodist Committee on Relief. As one of the largest disaster relief organizations in the world, UMCOR was already on the ground in Haiti by Wednesday morning to begin relief efforts. As you may know, when a disaster like this happens, 100% of donations to UMCOR goes to relief efforts. Right now, not a single cent of donations for Haiti relief through UMCOR are used for administrative costs. And do you know why? Because congregations like this one pay mission share. One of the ways our monthly mission share payments are used is to cover administrative costs for UMCOR, so that our past mission share payments means that more money can be used for relief now.
Many of you have approached me this week asking about ways you can help the people of Haiti in this time of crisis. In a few moments, I’m going to ask that we take up a special offering for the people of Haiti. I encourage you to give generously, remembering that God blesses us so that we can share those blessings with others. All of the money that we receive in this offering will be donated to UMCOR’s relief efforts in Haiti, and I can assure you that 100% of it will be used on the ground in Haiti. If you are unprepared to make a donation this morning, you can also donate online to UMCOR’s Haiti relief efforts. Simply go to our church’s website, and on the home page you’ll find a link that will take you directly to the Haiti donation page for UMCOR. I urge you to give as you feel led.
I know that it is sometimes difficult to get passionate about helping in ways like this, where we receive little to no recognition or credit for our generosity. But remember, that was how Jesus began his ministry – by enacting miracles behind the scenes. The ministry of Jesus Christ still continues today, and he still wishes to enact miracles all over the world, including in Haiti. And we have a chance before us to be the servants filling the jars with water, assisting as behind-the-scenes miracle workers alongside Jesus, reaching out in love to those in need. Will we take advantage of that opportunity, giving Haitians reason to celebrate even in the midst of their crisis? Can we make some top-shelf wine for our thirsty brothers and sisters in Haiti? Can we contribute to giving the people of Haiti a cause to celebrate, as hopeless as that seems right now? Can we do our part in the continuing ministry of our Lord and Savior? Jesus is calling out to us. Will we “do whatever he tells us”? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scripture: John 2:1-11 (Jesus turns water into wine)
It’s stories like this that remind me how blessed we are to have 4 Gospels. Matthew, Mark, and Luke say nothing of Jesus’ winemaking in Cana, but thanks to John, we have the wonderful miracle story that is our Gospel lesson this morning. It shouldn’t be surprising to us, since John seems to pride himself on being the odd Gospel out, the story that’s more different than the rest. But there are things about this story that do surprise me, such as the fact that it serves as an introduction to Jesus’ ministry. The story of Jesus gracing a wedding at Cana with his presence – and his winemaking skills – is the first story John tells as the ministry of Jesus and the disciples kicks off. And what a fine story it is.
But, as tends to happen when I read scripture, I’m drawn to the lack of details that John provides. Sure, he gives us the exact number of stone jars and approximates the amount of wine for us – somewhere in the neighborhood of 150 gallons – but those details aren’t all that necessary. No, what intrigues me most about this story as we reflect on it this morning is all the details that are missing. It doesn’t take long for us to notice that the author has so carelessly neglected to mention who it is that is getting married, how many guests are there, or how far along they are in the traditional 7 day celebration.
But beyond that, John misses a chance for some real, eye-popping drama when he describes the miracle! The scene where the water is turned into wine is pretty lame, if you ask me. There is very little action that takes place. And this is surely the reason why, despite the sensational nature of turning water into wine, this story has yet to be made into a high-grossing Hollywood movie.
Open up your Bibles again and look at the story. All the dramatic moments are missing! First and foremost, the story completely skips over the actual turning of water into wine. Jesus instructs some servants to fill the jars with water, and then in the next scene, with the chief steward, the water “had become wine”! What happened? We don’t see any hand waving, mystical touching, or Greek chanting over the jars. There’s simply no “abracadabra” moment here! Jesus’ only act is to lovingly order around some poor, unsuspecting servants. Where’s the flair in that?
And for whatever reason, Jesus keeps quiet about his miracle. Not once does he take credit for his actions, nor does he insist that others recognize what he did. In fact, very few people even saw it as a miracle. Aside from the servants, the disciples, and Jesus, no one even knew a miracle had taken place. The party went on without a hiccup of any sort – no indication is ever given that the majority of the guests even realized that the wine gave out.
And I don’t know about you, but if I were Jesus I would’ve stepped up and taken credit. I mean, wasn’t he using this story to reveal his glory? According to his actions, that was not his concern at all. Think about it: The chief steward approaches the groom and commends him on his generous hospitality. Great job, son! You’ve saved the top shelf wine for late in the feast! You have provided enough wine to get the whole county drunk! Your hosting abilities speak very well of your character! And Jesus is standing there watching this whole conversation take place, the groom probably accepting the credit even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, and Jesus says nothing! C’mon JC, get up and tell them what happened! Tell them what you did! Proclaim the miracle that took place! Reveal your glory! Well, are you going to speak up or what?!
But Jesus never says a word. So, on we go with the party, new top shelf wine flowing freely, people dancing and drinking and having a great time together, completely unaware that any divine action has taken place to allow the party to continue. This is not the grand entrance that I would have written for Jesus’ public ministry, but then again, I was not the author of the Gospel of John. Still, I just can’t get over this burning question: Why doesn’t Jesus step up? This is John’s first public appearance by Jesus, but he proclaims nothing, reveals nothing, takes credit for nothing – all he’s doing is rescuing the wedding feast of a small town in Galilee.
Like many people this week, I sat in my office on Wednesday morning, the news of the earthquake in Haiti still developing, wrestling with the question of theodicy: Why would a good God allow human suffering to take place? Why would a good God allow an earthquake ravage the poorest nation on earth, affecting the lives of millions and claiming the lives of tens of thousands?
And why, in the midst of this terrible devastation in Haiti, am I sitting here reflecting on a story about Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding feast? The reading of this story coinciding with the events in Haiti left me feeling conflicted. Here are millions of suffering people, and Jesus is concerned about the amount of alcohol at a wedding???
Yet, we know that just because our God is making wine in one place doesn’t mean God can’t be somewhere else at the same time. We know that God is not limited to time and space and prioritizing like we are, and that just because empty bottles of wine are a crisis doesn’t mean that a natural disaster in Haiti is not a crisis. We know that God cares just as much for the people of Haiti as he does for the wedding guests in Cana, and God cares just as much for victims of domestic abuse as he does for victims of violent crime, God cares just as much for Christians as he does for people of other faiths, and God cares just as much for those who died in the quake as for those who survived. God does not prioritize – all the needs of the world, from the most trivial to the most urgent, are God’s greatest priorities. And when we see the images of the devastation and the desperate needs in Haiti, we begin to realize that a new miracle opportunity has materialized. And already, many of us are asking what we can do to help.
In the wake of these events, we have an incredible opportunity to be miracle workers. We have a chance to be servants of Jesus Christ, doing whatever he tells us to do, whether it’s assisting in the rescue of a kickin’ party or doing what we can to help the relief efforts in the coming weeks, months, and years. Although we are separated by thousands of miles, and we cannot travel there at this time for hands-on help, there are things we can do. We can lift up in prayer the millions of affected Haitians, emergency, disaster response, and relief workers, medical workers, and all other missionaries seeking to meet the overwhelming needs. We can educate ourselves about the struggles of the nation of Haiti, whose poverty was unparalleled even before this week. And, we can contribute to relief efforts. Today, we can contribute financially out of our abundance, and in the months and years to come there will be many opportunities to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ as we seek to help in more tangible ways.
I want to take a moment to talk about the connections this congregation has with Haiti, and the opportunities we have to strengthen those connections. First, you may remember that in January of 2009, a missionary named Michael Ritter visited our congregation. Michael is a close personal friend of me and Lisa, and he works to provide sustainable clean water solutions in Haiti. When he was here last January, he showed us pictures and told us stories of the devastation there. Even before the earthquake this week, Haiti was the poorest, most destitute nation in the world, which is the main reason why this earthquake claimed so many lives. The nation was simply not wealthy enough to withstand such a natural disaster like we would be able to.
Anyway, Michael happened to be in the Port-au-Prince area when the earthquake struck. He was about 30 miles outside of Port-au-Prince, staying in the rectory of a church in a town called Baudin. On Thursday, Michael wrote on his blog about his experiences this week. I encourage you to click here and read his reflections.
Secondly, I want to talk to you about our connectedness to Haiti through the denomination of the United Methodist Church. For instance, do you know that as a congregation, we have already supported United Methodist relief efforts in Haiti? That’s right. The United Methodist Church has a relief agency called UMCOR: The United Methodist Committee on Relief. As one of the largest disaster relief organizations in the world, UMCOR was already on the ground in Haiti by Wednesday morning to begin relief efforts. As you may know, when a disaster like this happens, 100% of donations to UMCOR goes to relief efforts. Right now, not a single cent of donations for Haiti relief through UMCOR are used for administrative costs. And do you know why? Because congregations like this one pay mission share. One of the ways our monthly mission share payments are used is to cover administrative costs for UMCOR, so that our past mission share payments means that more money can be used for relief now.
Many of you have approached me this week asking about ways you can help the people of Haiti in this time of crisis. In a few moments, I’m going to ask that we take up a special offering for the people of Haiti. I encourage you to give generously, remembering that God blesses us so that we can share those blessings with others. All of the money that we receive in this offering will be donated to UMCOR’s relief efforts in Haiti, and I can assure you that 100% of it will be used on the ground in Haiti. If you are unprepared to make a donation this morning, you can also donate online to UMCOR’s Haiti relief efforts. Simply go to our church’s website, and on the home page you’ll find a link that will take you directly to the Haiti donation page for UMCOR. I urge you to give as you feel led.
I know that it is sometimes difficult to get passionate about helping in ways like this, where we receive little to no recognition or credit for our generosity. But remember, that was how Jesus began his ministry – by enacting miracles behind the scenes. The ministry of Jesus Christ still continues today, and he still wishes to enact miracles all over the world, including in Haiti. And we have a chance before us to be the servants filling the jars with water, assisting as behind-the-scenes miracle workers alongside Jesus, reaching out in love to those in need. Will we take advantage of that opportunity, giving Haitians reason to celebrate even in the midst of their crisis? Can we make some top-shelf wine for our thirsty brothers and sisters in Haiti? Can we contribute to giving the people of Haiti a cause to celebrate, as hopeless as that seems right now? Can we do our part in the continuing ministry of our Lord and Savior? Jesus is calling out to us. Will we “do whatever he tells us”? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Forgiving Heroes
I'm here to talk about the past. I'm here to talk about that magical summer of 1998. I was 15 years old, passionate about the game of baseball since birth, and frustrated that Major League Baseball had declined in popularity in the aftermath of the strike-shortened season in 1994. But then along came two sluggers, a gregarious Dominican right fielder named Sammy Sosa and a pudgy first baseman with a down on the farm, "aw, shucks" attitude named Mark McGwire. They bombed homer after homer. They chased, and shattered, a beloved record. They cooperated with the media. They mingled with fans. They became friends with each other. Sammy had his patented chest-thump-kiss, and Big Mac had the understated fist raise. They were just two sociable guys playing a child's game with joy and passion. They were everything we want our heroes to be, and with their chase for the single season home run record that year, they made Americans fall in love again with our national pastime.
By now, we all know how this story has changed over the last 11 1/2 years. Since then, Sammy Sosa has been uncovered as a bat-corker and probable (but not proven) steroid user. This past Monday, Mark McGwire admitted that he used steroids during his career, including the magical 1998 season. McGwire is not the first slugger to admit steroid use, nor will he be the last. But his earnest apology on Monday, coupled with his reputation as a fan favorite and a "swell guy," has led many to consider the question of forgiveness. Should we forgive Mark McGwire? Should we forgive Sammy Sosa? Should we forgive A-Rod, Clemens, Pettitte, Canseco, Bonds? Should we forgive the great Armando Rios?!
Over the last several days, I've heard these questions raised once again. Often, they come from the angle of whether or not these players "deserve" our forgiveness. Many feel that apologetic stars like McGwire deserve forgiveness, but the unapologetic Bonds and the silent Sosa are not worthy of forgiveness and pardon. It seems as though our society offers forgiveness to those who publicly confess their sins and express remorse, but withholds forgiveness from those who don't think they need to be forgiven.
I often struggle with this understanding of forgiveness. Is it possible to forgive someone who doesn't think they need to be forgiven? Or must some remorse be present for forgiveness to take place? Can I forgive the person who cuts in front of me in line at the grocery store, even if they feel they are entirely justified in doing so? Can God forgive us for things we're not sorry for, or sins we are not aware of committing? Can forgivenes precede apology? All I know is that I can try to forgive the unremorseful sluggers as well as the remorseful, hoping that someday they will come to know the truth about their deplorable actions.
As a baseball fan, I feel cheated by the steroid era. I am deeply wounded by these players that contributed to placing this blemish on the game of baseball. My innocence has been ripped from me -- the baseball element of my childhood has turned out to be one big lie after another. In my attic remains memories of the 1998 home run chase -- scorecards of the many Cardinals or Cubs games I attended, with the home run number written for Sosa or McGwire, along with newspapers and magazines chronicling the events. But what used to be sweet memories are now sour. I now look at these mementos and become sick to my stomach. As much as I wish we could stop talking about the past, I know that new reports, new confessions, new weepy apologies to Costas and Gammons will continue. Alas, the pain will never go away.
"Then Peter came and said to him, 'Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven.'" - Matthew 18:21-22
The steroid era has called us into an endless cycle of forgiveness. A few times a year, we're called to forgive yet another hero-of-the-past-turned-goat-of-the-present. Perhaps when Jesus first spoke these words to Peter, he knew one day there would be an entire nation of baseball fans living out the call to forgive "seventy times seven."
So Big Mac, I forgive you. Sammy, I forgive you. I forgive all of the sluggers, flamethrowers, and marginal minor leaguers trying to "get to the Show" no matter what the cost. I forgive you for cheapening the integrity of the game. I forgive you for marginalizing the clean players with your drug-enhanced performance. I forgive you for cheating the fans of a pure experience. And I forgive you for trampling on my heart, leaving a gaping wound where fond childhood memories once lived. I will always wear the scars of this era, scars that you all have made. I will always be saddened by what has transpired in the aftermath. But here is one boy who will forgive you for the pain you have inflicted upon all of us, whether or not you think you deserve it.
By now, we all know how this story has changed over the last 11 1/2 years. Since then, Sammy Sosa has been uncovered as a bat-corker and probable (but not proven) steroid user. This past Monday, Mark McGwire admitted that he used steroids during his career, including the magical 1998 season. McGwire is not the first slugger to admit steroid use, nor will he be the last. But his earnest apology on Monday, coupled with his reputation as a fan favorite and a "swell guy," has led many to consider the question of forgiveness. Should we forgive Mark McGwire? Should we forgive Sammy Sosa? Should we forgive A-Rod, Clemens, Pettitte, Canseco, Bonds? Should we forgive the great Armando Rios?!
Over the last several days, I've heard these questions raised once again. Often, they come from the angle of whether or not these players "deserve" our forgiveness. Many feel that apologetic stars like McGwire deserve forgiveness, but the unapologetic Bonds and the silent Sosa are not worthy of forgiveness and pardon. It seems as though our society offers forgiveness to those who publicly confess their sins and express remorse, but withholds forgiveness from those who don't think they need to be forgiven.
I often struggle with this understanding of forgiveness. Is it possible to forgive someone who doesn't think they need to be forgiven? Or must some remorse be present for forgiveness to take place? Can I forgive the person who cuts in front of me in line at the grocery store, even if they feel they are entirely justified in doing so? Can God forgive us for things we're not sorry for, or sins we are not aware of committing? Can forgivenes precede apology? All I know is that I can try to forgive the unremorseful sluggers as well as the remorseful, hoping that someday they will come to know the truth about their deplorable actions.
As a baseball fan, I feel cheated by the steroid era. I am deeply wounded by these players that contributed to placing this blemish on the game of baseball. My innocence has been ripped from me -- the baseball element of my childhood has turned out to be one big lie after another. In my attic remains memories of the 1998 home run chase -- scorecards of the many Cardinals or Cubs games I attended, with the home run number written for Sosa or McGwire, along with newspapers and magazines chronicling the events. But what used to be sweet memories are now sour. I now look at these mementos and become sick to my stomach. As much as I wish we could stop talking about the past, I know that new reports, new confessions, new weepy apologies to Costas and Gammons will continue. Alas, the pain will never go away.
"Then Peter came and said to him, 'Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven.'" - Matthew 18:21-22
The steroid era has called us into an endless cycle of forgiveness. A few times a year, we're called to forgive yet another hero-of-the-past-turned-goat-of-the-present. Perhaps when Jesus first spoke these words to Peter, he knew one day there would be an entire nation of baseball fans living out the call to forgive "seventy times seven."
So Big Mac, I forgive you. Sammy, I forgive you. I forgive all of the sluggers, flamethrowers, and marginal minor leaguers trying to "get to the Show" no matter what the cost. I forgive you for cheapening the integrity of the game. I forgive you for marginalizing the clean players with your drug-enhanced performance. I forgive you for cheating the fans of a pure experience. And I forgive you for trampling on my heart, leaving a gaping wound where fond childhood memories once lived. I will always wear the scars of this era, scars that you all have made. I will always be saddened by what has transpired in the aftermath. But here is one boy who will forgive you for the pain you have inflicted upon all of us, whether or not you think you deserve it.
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