First Congregational Church
August 28, 2022 12th Sunday after Pentecost Luke 14:1, 7-14 “The Restorative Hospitality Characteristic of God’s Realm” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching A six-year-old said grace at family dinner one evening. "Dear God, thank You for the pancakes.” When she concluded, her mother asked her why she thanked God for pancakes when they were having chicken-pot pie. She smiled and said, "I thought I would check to see if God was paying attention.” Two caterpillars are escaping a spider…. They climb up a small branch and get to the edge, but realize they are now trapped. "Hold on tight!" says the first caterpillar, and he quickly chews through the branch. It snaps and they begin to fall, but he grabs two protruding twigs and steers the branch through the air with grace and finesse. "That's amazing!" says the second caterpillar. "How are you doing that?!” The first caterpillar scoffs. "Am I the *only one* in the whole forest who knows how to drive a stick?" To set up this morning’s scripture passage, it comes from a section of Luke in which Jesus was going through one town and village after another, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem. Last week our text was from the 13th chapter of Luke; this morning’s from the 14th. Between last week and this week, Luke describes really short versions of the mustard seed and yeast parables, Jesus’ teaching about the narrow door and his lament over Jerusalem, ending up with the healing of a man with edema, right before today’s passage. Luke 14:1, 7-14 1 One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched. 7 When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: 8 "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. 9 If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. 10 But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. 11 For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." 12 Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, 14 and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." Thank you, Julie. When Billy Graham was driving through a small southern town, he was stopped by a policeman and charged with speeding. Graham admitted his guilt but was told by the officer that he would have to appear in court. The judge asked, "Guilty, or not guilty?" When Graham pleaded guilty, the judge replied, "That'll be ten dollars - a dollar for every mile you went over the limit.” Suddenly the judge recognized the famous minister. "You have violated the law," he said. "The fine must be paid - but I am going to pay it for you." He took a ten-dollar bill from his own wallet, attached it to the ticket, and then took Graham out and bought him a steak dinner! Fiorello LaGuardia, was mayor of New York City during the worst days of the Great Depression and all of WWII. He was called by adoring New Yorkers 'the Little Flower' because he was only five foot four and always wore a carnation in his lapel. He was a colorful character who used to ride the New York City fire trucks, raid speakeasies with the police department, take entire orphanages to baseball games, and whenever the New York newspapers were on strike, he would go on the radio and read the Sunday funnies to the kids. One bitterly cold night in January of 1935, the mayor turned up at a night court that served the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. Within a few minutes, a tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. "It's a real bad neighborhood, your Honor." the man told the mayor. "She's got to be punished to teach other people around here a lesson." LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said "I've got to punish you. The law makes no exceptions - ten dollars or ten days in jail." But even as he pronounced the sentence, the mayor was already reaching into his pocket. He extracted a bill and tossed it into his famous sombrero saying: "Here is the ten dollar fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Baliff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant." The following day the New York City newspapers reported that $47.50 was turned over to a bewildered old lady who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren, fifty cents of that amount being contributed by the red-faced grocery store owner, while some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and New York City policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing so, gave the mayor a standing ovation. Years ago, Jeffrey Zaslow’s father coached a team of eight-year-olds. He had a few excellent players and some who just couldn't get the hang of the game. His dad's team didn't win once all season. But in the last inning of the last game, his team was only down by a run. There was one boy who had never been able to hit the ball - or catch it. With two outs, it was his turn to bat. He surprised the world and got a single! The next batter was the team slugger. Finally, Mr. Zaslow’s players might win a game. The slugger connected, and as the boy who hit the single ran to second base, he saw the ball coming toward him. Not so certain of baseball's rules, he caught it. Final out! Zaslow's team lost! Quickly, Mr. Zaslow told his team to cheer. The boy beamed. It never occurred to him that he lost the game. All he knew was he had hit the ball and caught it - both for the first time. His parents later thanked the coach. Their child had never even gotten in a game before that season. They never told the boy exactly what happened. They didn't want to ruin it for him. And till this day, Jeffrey Zaslow is proud of what his father did that afternoon. Charles Spurgeon and Joseph Parker both had churches in London in the 19th century. On one occasion, Parker commented on the poor condition of children admitted to Spurgeon's orphanage. It was reported to Spurgeon however, that Parker had criticized the orphanage itself. Spurgeon blasted Parker the next week from the pulpit. The attack was printed in the newspapers and became the talk of the town. (Thank goodness the newspapers don’t print my sermons!) People flocked to Parker's church the next Sunday to hear his rebuttal. "I understand Dr. Spurgeon is not in his pulpit today, and this is the Sunday they use to take an offering for the orphanage. I suggest we take a love offering here instead." The crowd was delighted. The ushers had to empty the collection plates 3 times. Later that week there was a knock at Parker's study. It was Spurgeon. "You know Parker, you have practiced grace on me. You have given me not what I deserved, you have given me what I needed. Yale Divinity School Professor of Hebrew Scriptures, Carolyn Sharp, wrote a line this week in her commentary on this morning’s scripture passage that does a wonderful job of describing the gospels, especially the accounts in Luke. “Jesus invites hearers to imagine a transformative web of relations woven in mercy and strengthened not through patronage or obligation but through joyous connection across lines of difference.” Not long after that sentence, she wrote the phrase that became this morning’s sermon title; “The restorative hospitality characteristic of God’s realm.” Let that roll around in your head for a second. The restorative hospitality characteristic of God’s realm.” It’s grace, isn’t it? Sitting at the end of the banquet table is not so that we will be ushered to a more prestigious spot, but gives us the ability to avoid humiliation. Brett Blair of sermons.com posted his take on this passage, and he asked a wonderful question. “How do you stay humble in a haughty world?” First of all, bonus points for the word “haughty.” Secondly, it’s a great question. Mr. Blair said there are two things we need to do to answer that question. First, don’t put yourself in a position to eat humble pie. And second, expect to be honored only in the life to come. In terms of our own hospitality, Mr. Blair said, “Kindness to people who can repay us in kind is not charity.” He ended with this thought. “Jesus did not choose a palace but a stable in which to be born. He did not choose the priesthood but carpentry as his profession. He did not choose world leaders but world losers, to develop his plan. He did not choose a throne but a cross from which to govern.” Mother Teresa was once asked, "How do you measure the success of your work?" She thought about the question and gave her interviewer a puzzled look, and said, "I don't remember that the Lord ever spoke of success. He spoke only of faithfulness in love. It is said that Charlemagne was the greatest Christian ruler of the early Middle Ages. After his death, a mighty funeral procession left his castle for the cathedral at Aix. (ex) When the royal casket arrived, with all pomp and circumstance, it was met by the local bishop, who barred the cathedral door. "Who comes?" the Bishop asked, as was the custom. "Charlemagne, Lord and King of the Holy Roman Empire," proclaimed the Emperor's proud herald. "Him I know not," the Bishop replied. "Who comes?” The herald, a bit shook, replied, "Charles the Great, a good and honest man of the earth.” "Him I know not," the Bishop said again. "Who comes?” The herald, now completely crushed, responded, "Charles, a lowly sinner, who begs the gift of Christ.” To which the Bishop responded, "Enter! Receive Christ's gift of life!” Let us pray. Holy and Hospitable God, you well know that sometimes it is easy and sometimes it’s hard to realize, much less embrace our common humanity. You also know how human we are, in competition and fending for ourselves. But this morning we pray that you help us be mindful of humble hospitality, especially its low material cost and its high divine value. Give us extra portions of grace for making apologies when needful and for stepping up to moments of recognition, when those are needful, too. While we are mindful that these requests are not about making points for eternal admission to your kingdom, move our hearts and minds to do the work that you need of us to do until the day we enter eternity. For these and all your blessings, all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
August 21, 2022 11th Sunday after Pentecost Luke 13:10-17 “Living Between the Lines” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching Ole and Sven were on vacation, hiking through the jungle when Sven noticed a lizard, standing on its hind legs, telling jokes. Sven turned to Ole and said, “That lizard is really funny!” Ole replied, “That’s not a lizard. It’s a stand-up chameleon.” I know. It’s been far too long since a really bad pun was part of the morning message. This week commemorates some famous events. August 22, 1864, is the day when twelve European nations signed the First Geneva Convention, launching the international humanitarian law movement. Nurse Clara Barton lead the effort for the United States to join the Convention, ratified 22 years later. August 25, 1916, is the day President Woodrow Wilson signed into law the 1916 act that established the National Park Service. Sleeping Bear National Park will remain a beloved and protected area in perpetuity. August 26, 1910 is the birthday of Anjeze (an’ yes) Gonxhe (go ’n check) Bojaxhiu (boya’ g u) in Skopje (skow’ pee ya), present-day Macedonia. She took religious vows at the age of 21 and taught at a school outside Calcutta, but was deeply disturbed by the poverty that surrounded her. So she left the order, trading in her habit for a simple inexpensive white cotton sari with a blue border, and got permission from the Vatican to begin a congregation that would become Missionaries of Charity. By the time Mother Teresa died, more than 4,000 workers in 133 countries opened orphanages, homes for people with tuberculosis and leprosy, soup kitchens, hospitals, mobile health clinics and schools. In 1940, a small baby girl, 4.5 pounds, was born to Ed and Blanche in Clarksville, TN. She was a sickly child … the 20th of 22 children. Before the age of five, she dealt with measles, scarlet fever, and a variety of other diseases, and eventually was stricken with polio. She was told she would never walk again. Known in her family as Baby Girl, when she and her parents got back from the hospital 50 miles away, everyone in the family was upset and crying. All except Baby Girl’s grandmother, known as Big Mama. Despite what the doctors said, Big Mama vowed to go into deep prayer for her grand baby. When Baby Girl was about twelve years old, a revival meeting was held in their town, and Big Mama informed Baby Girl that they were going to go together to that meeting. Baby Girl didn’t want to go, because she didn’t like people looking at her legs with the braces on them. When the preacher called for anyone in need to go forward, Big Mama looked over to Baby Girl and said, “It’s your time. Make your way to the altar.” As the elders and women of the church prayed around her, she said that she felt something from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet that said, “Baby Girl, it’s time to run.” Baby Girl tried to make sense of the conflicting voices - the doctors and the prayers - but after hearing the message, “It’s time to run,” Baby Girl started walking around the church. And then she started skipping and running around the church. And the braces started to come off as she ran. And Baby Girl kept on running - all the way through high school, to Tennessee State, and eventually to the Olympics. Wilma Rudolph was acclaimed as the fastest woman in the world in the 1960s, the first woman to win three gold medals in a single Olympic Games, and became a role model for black and female athletes, one of the most highly visible athletes in the world, all this despite becoming pregnant her senior year in high school. Luke 13:10-17 10 On a Sabbath, Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, 11 and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” 13 Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. 14 Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue leader said to the people, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.” 15 The Lord answered him, “You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? 16 Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?” 17 When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. Thank you, Mike. I don’t know about any of you, but I feel bad for the gathered crowd that day. There’s the synagogue leader yelling in one ear and the woman’s praises in the other ear. The one who represents authority - the synagogue leader - reminds them of the fence of the law while Jesus reminds them that common sense makes sense. If you don’t water the livestock on the Sabbath, you degrade their physicality, damaging your own “bottom line” as it were. If animals get that which allows them life, then why wouldn’t a person afflicted with a malady be cured when it is available to them? The religious authority figure keeps his hand on the necks of the crowd, causing confusion. Do they follow after their eyes and one ear and the miracle man and woman right before them, or do they trust their other ear and the one who shames them for wanting what she has and what Jesus could do? If anyone else wanted such healing, you’d better think twice! Part of the reason that the religious leaders of Jesus’ day get such a bad rap is that by falling into a pattern of strict obedience to the law, they become killjoys of God’s glory. There are so many voices these days, some of them really loud, against the background white noise of life. Some days, it’s hard to hear, much less see, the miracles in front of us, and we can forget to lift up our heads because we are free in Christ. “Don’t you all go get any ideas! You’ve got six days to get healing. If you want to be made well, you’re not going to get it today.” Imagine being at church and seeing someone become well and whole, only to be told that it might have happened for this one person - by accident - but there would be no more accidental healing - when it came to you. The religious leader assumes that he understands what is right and wrong for the Sabbath. Yes, there is the command to keep the Sabbath holy, but even animals are worthy of care on the Sabbath. As you try to envision this scene in your mind, is the synagogue leader shaking a finger at the crowd? His indignation roars! He implies that the woman is the reason the healing occurred when the real reason was Jesus. In his deflection, the leader’s voice is not really about the healed woman, but about himself. The woman may have been bent over because of physical reasons, but the leader is bent over because of religious reasons, rules that drag his neck down. For something like seven years, Wilma Rudolph’s grandmother was in deep prayer for her granddaughter. The woman in this morning’s passage was crippled for 18 years and still went to synagogue. Sometimes, we want so much to “do” something for someone and the only thing we can do is pray. We all know that, but a good many of us need to be reminded to keep on a-prayin’. I’ve known of two women and two men who live or lived life at 90 degrees. Most of us can only imagine just some of the realities of living such a life. Medications, dishes, and glasses have to be brought down to a reachable height. Conversation while standing comes from a side. People can literally talk over them, excluding them from inclusion and any sense of normalcy, unless they are sitting down. Having cared for people that are so curled, I’ll tell you, it’s not easy. Their back and leg muscles just don't want to relax, even when laying on their back. So pillows are needed to help prop them - either so they stay on their back, or under them, so they don’t smash their face all the way into the pillow and can at least breathe. There are so many people, with so many struggles, a huge number of them being physical. It would probably be a moment of sad realization if anyone here who struggled with a physical malady raised their hand. Rev. Otis Moss, III, Senior Pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, Illinois, preached on this passage, and he pointed out how this woman was considered to have diminished capacity, which reminds us that some people link still link ability and intelligence. But she was still in church, even though she struggled with a condition that seemed to be permanent. After eighteen years of struggling to see the faces of those around her, she had enough vision to make her way to the worship space. Rev. Moss’ best line was, “Even if this woman was never healed, she speaks to the boldness and tenacity we need to have in this day and age.” We get the woman’s example of going to worship, regardless of condition. And granted, Covid’s had a thing. But it’s reading between the lines that we see her boldness and tenacity, and that of Wilma Rudolph’s grandmother’s prayers. It’s interesting that the woman doesn’t ask for help, there is no mixing spit and mud, no washing in a river. Jesus just sees her, touches her - risking contamination by a sick person, heals her, and recognizes her - daughter of Abraham. If you were that woman, and Jesus came and put his hands on you and you were “unfolded,” how do you think you’d react? Silent tears of gratitude? Great, loud whoops of joy? Not only is she healed, but now she can see again. It’s an interesting thought, living between the lines of what is written in this holy book. And yet, it’s not so hard, because between the lines is love. Love that longs for wholeness - for each of us - for all of us - even the ones that are not our favorites. As I was writing yesterday, I realized that I maybe need to change a way of thinking about life - that it’s so much easier living in a world that has clear boundaries, what we call black and white - which is in itself a phrase that needs changing. While it’s easier to live with clear rules and consequences, a good many of us live not in the black and white of life, but in the grey spaces of life. Except that maybe I - you - all of us - really live in all the colors of life - between the polarities of black and white. And isn’t that really what living between the lines is like - living in all the colors of love? So we pray. God of Colors and Common Sense and Appreciation and Intelligence, thank you for so designing our world that we have the ability to live deeply - in all its aspects. Thank you for the hope of prayer and the answers of those prayers, whether we realize them or not. Give us the guidance and insight on helping those bent over in sorrow or fatigue or pain - to be able to straighten up; to be able to look up - to you and this glorious world that you have given us. Thank you for all your blessings, as all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
August 14, 2022 10th Sunday after Pentecost Luke 12:49-59 “Judging for Ourselves” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching I came across two little snippets, that when put together, make powerful sense. Many a shampoo bottle carries the claim that using it will give your hair extra body and volume. Now think about that. When rinsing out the soap, the shampoo runs down the rest of one's body, which is generally not where one likes “extra body and volume.” So I got to wondering about Dawn dishwashing soap, because the label has read “Dissolves fat that is otherwise difficult to remove.” Luke 12:49-59 49 “I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! 50 But I have a baptism to undergo, and what constraint I am under until it is completed! 51 Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division. 52 From now on there will be five in one family divided against each other, three against two and two against three. 53 They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.” Interpreting the Times 54 He said to the crowd: “When you see a cloud rising in the west, immediately you say, ‘It’s going to rain,’ and it does. 55 And when the south wind blows, you say, ‘It’s going to be hot,’ and it is. 56 Hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky. How is it that you don’t know how to interpret this present time? 57 “Why don’t you judge for yourselves what is right? 58 As you are going with your adversary to the magistrate, try hard to be reconciled on the way, or your adversary may drag you off to the judge, and the judge turn you over to the officer, and the officer throw you into prison. 59 I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny.” Thank you, Nancy. William H. Belgian Jr. wrote about a sociology professor, whom every year begins his course on "The Family" by reading to his class a letter, from a parent, written to a government official. In the letter, the parent complains that his son, once obedient and well-motivated, has become involved with some weird new religious cult. The father complains that the cult has taken over the boy's life, has forced him to forsake all of his old friends, and has turned him against his family. After reading the letter, the professor asks the class to speculate what group the father is talking about. Almost without exception, the class immediately assumes that the subject of the letter is a child mixed up with the "Moonies," or some other controversial group. After the class puts out all of the possible conclusions they can think of, the professor surprises them by revealing that the letter was written by a third-century father in Rome, the governor of his province, complaining about this weird religious group called "The Christians.” If all one read of the Bible was this morning’s scripture passage, that one might be tempted to say something similar about us who follow the One - with a capital O. Author Steven Molin shares the story of a “teenage girl at summer camp who was torn between two sets of friends. Some of them were sunbathing on the dock, asking to her “stay with us.” But her other friends were in a rowboat saying “no, come with us.” There she stood, one foot on the dock, the other foot on the edge of the boat, and the boat was moving. Trying to appease everyone, neither group any better than the other, trying to not decide, she ended up falling into the water; and worse, her hair got wet! Mr. Molin goes on. “But I think this is exactly what Jesus is addressing in the gospel lesson today. He is warning us that there will be times when following him will require us to turn away from something else. There will be times in this life when we will be required to say “yes” to one thing, and therefore “no” to the other. And of course, the action some of us most often take is the same one that the girl did on the swimming dock. Many try to go in both directions. The tendency is to say “yes” to it all, and we end up falling in between the seams, and being miserable.” I appreciate Mr. Molin’s take on this passage because, on its own, this passage certainly rubs my fur the wrong way, and I’m guessing I’m not the only one. Even more puzzling, the first 48 verses of Luke 12 deal with quieting the anxiety of his followers, and he ends with this sort of smorgasbord of dire warnings. It might be that the writer - or writers - of Luke had various pieces leftover - after mapping out the whole of the gospel. “Let’s just stick these leftovers in at the end of chapter twelve, and maybe no one will really notice.” Or maybe the writer of Luke was really on a role one day, writing and writing and writing, and then, as so often happens - squirrel! - and when they went back to the page, all continuity was lost. So the writer just started with what came to mind first. Probably not, but maybe…. It’s interesting that in one aspect, part of the passage almost seems more descriptive than prophetic to us modern-day folks. Sometimes, following Christ has had the sad result of dividing families. Other times, it has united them. Even the thought of such division can result in people drawing back from embracing a faith that is about love - if that is what love looks like. Except it’s maybe not so much about love - but passion - and passion carries that sense of heated emotion, which is not really what faith or following is about. On a few occasions, a former pastor of this church, Dick Stoddard and I would preside at a wedding or funeral together. At one of the weddings we did, he said something that has stuck in my mind ever since. It went something like this, “being married to someone is not loving a person every day, but making a decision to love every day.” The vows that a couple makes are not about loving every day, but about the decision to love every day, because somedays, I hear it’s not so easy to love one’s spouse. I can say with full certainty that some days it is not so easy to love one’s family members or friends, either, without deciding to love. In relation to this passage, an individual’s faith may cause a division in a family, but such a division means that there has been a decision to stop loving that family member or to let the issue grow bigger than love. We are to love all people, period. We don’t always have to agree with them. And yes, sometimes love between people can be very lopsided. That’s not new news. The second part of this passage is also interesting because it isn’t necessarily worded in an easy-flow manner. The Dinah Haag summary of verses 54-56 would be something like “You may have disagreements, but you don’t have to jump on the disagreement wagon.” And then comes the best question. “Why don’t you judge for yourselves what is right?” It’s almost like you can hear the underlying comment, “You’ve got a brain. Use it!” Yes, God is supposed to be the judge about eternal things, and we get to be judges about things that pertain to our own selves. The original lectionary assignment was not verses 49-59, but 49-56. If you don’t have your Bibles open, the lectionary didn’t include the part about judging for ourselves what is right. Without those verses, the passage is too strained; too limiting to omit - particularly when it makes so much sense along with the rest of the passage. We all know it’s not only better, but far cheaper to avoid going before a court to resolve an issue, and it’s just as true when it comes to the resolution of hearts. And we all know that sometimes such resolutions aren’t easy or even possible. So we have courts and laws that the citizens of the land agree to live by. But would be interesting information, to find out how much money could be saved in court fees if people could judge for themselves what is right - without the heat of passion. Even then, it’s not nearly as much about money as it is about peace of mind and serenity of the soul. I get it, that it can take a while after someone has attacked my integrity before I can calm down enough to reconcile with that adversary - in my heart. Most of the time, an adversary has done what they have done, said what they have said, and moved right along, while my brain has nailed my foot to the floor of insult and I just twirl and twirl, justification following vindication in my own self-righteousness. Just like the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, we all have brains, despite what we may think is in our heads. And sometimes, we just need to be reminded to choose the voice of the brain over that of the heart, and sometimes vice versa. Like butterflies, we have to do our own struggling to grow - out of cocoons - or we won’t live full lives. Struggling with people we love can - if we choose - make us stronger in all our relationships - mainly if we use our brains - and reasoning - in the choosing. Glenna Reed wrote something called “While There’s Still Time”, in which she talks about her childhood, when she knew everyone on her street, and how everyone knew each other and who needed help and who needed support. In her current situation, she’s in an apartment complex with four other units besides hers, and in one month, she saw one person. She says, “In the parking lot people act as if they don’t know if they should speak. I do the same thing. Maybe I put my head down and make a beeline for my car, or maybe I just think about speaking. I try to say good morning or good afternoon, or just hi, but sometimes the other person makes it more difficult, sometimes it’s just my own fear. These are some of the reasons why, Jesus asks, why is it that we don’t understand the appearance of what is right in front of us? Wallace Kirby and C.S. Lewis came together in a comment that points out that the gospel was concerned to create "new people" not just "nice people." The human need is an inner transformation that makes us into new creatures. It is the warmth of the spirit of Christ that accomplishes this. This is not something we can do for ourselves; it is the New Testament insistence upon grace and gift, not work and merit. I wonder if we sometimes allow that warmth of Spirit to get too hot, or we forget that we are created to be new people, and not just nice people. We need our reminders of grace and gift, light and love, to be able to do our part in God’s kingdom. There was once an older man who had a little spotted dog. It was a mixture of spaniel, collie, terrier, and dachshund. He was a street-bred mutt, but the man loved him because he was all he had. They were constant companions, going everywhere and doing everything together. Every night the dog slept at the foot of the man's bed. Then one day the dog disappeared. He was playing in the yard one moment, and the next he was gone. He searched everywhere for him, looked on every street, around every corner, and talked to every neighbor, but the dog was nowhere to be found. The man searched all over the town, calling out the dog's name as he went, listening in vain for the familiar bark. The next day was the same and the one after that . . . for weeks the man searched till finally his neighbors and friends convinced him that there was no use in looking anymore. Surely the dog is dead, they said: hit by a car, no doubt, and crawled off by himself to die. Still, the man would not give up hope. Every night, before bed, he went out on the porch and called out the dog's name at the top of his voice. This went on for several months. The neighbors were certain that the man had lost his mind. And then one night, as the man was calling his name, the little spotted dog came home. The man never knew where he had been or what caused him to stay away so long, but he was very glad that he had never stopped calling his name. God never stops calling our names, to love and care for those around us - strangers or adversaries or family friends - and calls us to use our brains - not just our hearts - to judge for ourselves what is right and important and worth chasing after. And God never stops calling us to communicate with God’s self. So shall we do. God of Silences and Sounds, of Love and Grace, we thank you that you give us brains and hearts to be able to be responsible for our own responses to this life around us. Sometimes those responsibilities are overwhelming or painful, so we ask for extra portions of wisdom to make the best of choices in furthering your kingdom. And sometimes our choices are spot on, and your kingdom grows and for those times, we are grateful. Continue to teach us, God of Glory, to see further than usual, past our earthly limitations, to that which is of your kingdom and all its splendor. For all your blessings, all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
July 17, 2022 6th Sunday after Pentecost Luke 10:38-42 “Freedom for Rather than Freedom From” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching There is a man selling plane rides in his single prop show plane for $10 a person at the state fair. Sven looks to Martha and says, "Martha, I think I really should try that." Martha replies, "I know you want to Sven, but we have a lot of bills, and you know the money is tight, and $10 is $10." So Sven goes without. Over the next few years they return, and it’s the same thing, Sven wants to ride, but Martha says no money. Finally, when Sven and Martha are both about 70 years old, Sven looks at Martha, and says, "Martha, I'm 70 now, and I don't know if I'll ever get the chance again, so I just have to have a ride in that there airplane." Martha replies in the same old fashion, and Sven just slumps down. The pilot is standing near by and overhears the conversation. He pipes up, "Excuse me, folks, I couldn't help but hear your situation, and I have a deal for you. I'll take both of you up together, and if you can both make the entire trip without saying a word, or even making the slightest sound, I'll give you the ride for free. But if either of you makes a sound, it's $10 each." Martha and Sven look at each other and agree to take the ride. The pilot takes them up, and starts to do loop de loops, twists, dives, climbs, and spins. No sound. The pilot lands the plane, looks back at Sven, and says, "Sir, I have to hand it to ya, you didn't make even the slightest sound and that was my best stuff." Sven looks back at the pilot and says, "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but $10 is $10…" John 10:38-42 38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" 41 "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." Thank you, Sonia. I don’t know about anyone else, but in regard to this relatively famous passage, I have questions. Why didn’t Jesus urge Mary to help Martha to get the necessary work done quickly, and then they both could sit down at Jesus’ feet? Everyone had to eat, regardless. Wishful thinking has Jesus telling everyone - men included - to help with supper after his teaching is done. Isn’t it interesting that this story seems to pit two sisters against each other while Jesus was mainly about bringing everyone into the circle? Isn’t it intriguing that this is about the sisters of Lazarus, but he doesn’t even get a nod? And isn’t it interesting that this story messes with the “Protestant” work ethic that has been revered by so many? It certainly messes with gender-specific roles for women and men - Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet being a role traditionally held by males. And yet, some feminists are also disturbed at this passage because Martha is rebuked for her sharp tongue while Mary is praised for kneeling down at a man’s feet and keeping her mouth shut. It’s almost as if there’s no “win” to embracing this scene. As mentioned last week, scriptures are intended to draw us in, even to the point of making us so uncomfortable, that we can’t help but discuss the issue with someone else. I don’t recall who said it, but someone in my research suggested that if you are not disturbed by this event, you’re probably not paying attention. Jesus wanted to get people to look at life differently, and sometimes, the only way to get out of old ways of thinking to begin new perspectives of the kingdom was/is to shock them. Being such cultured 21st-century people of faith, we may miss the fact that this is a story - from the Bible - about two women - with names - who aren’t merely in the background, but front and center. Even after repeated readings of the passage, we might miss that mention of the house being Martha’s house - not a man’s house, but her house. The mention of her name and that house also indicates that she was the head of her household - without any apologies or explanations. In many respects, Martha is a gracious host to an important guest in her home, breaking the rules and the mold with a well-intentioned if not well-appointed table. Not what first century people would expect at all. In her own quiet way, Mary displays her rule-breaking by sitting at Jesus’ feet - a place where women were absolutely not allowed to be. But she does it anyway. In different ways, the sisters are cultural rebels - Martha running her own home and Mary taking the disciple’s seat. There’s one word that has been the steering wheel of this scenario for a long time - the word “but.” But Martha. You can almost hear the tsking. To compound that practice, Jesus scolds Martha with a back-handed compliment to Mary - she who has chosen what is better. All that said, there are two thoughts about this passage that may not get much press, but I do think they are important pieces for our spiritual lives. The first thought is that we need to take a step back to remember the passage that comes right before this - the one about the Good Samaritan. When the writer of Luke was putting all the pieces together, deciding which story goes where, what passage follows the other, that person was deliberate in pasting the Samaritan story before the Mary and Martha story. The Good Samaritan story is one of need, ignored by the religious leaders caught up in holy concerns - legitimately or illegitimately. The wounded man needed help because the leaders’ thoughts weren’t enough. So the Good Samaritan goes into Martha mode and actually does something. It’s obvious that Martha is trying to “do” something, but so is Mary - by sitting and listening to what Jesus has to say. And being hospitable isn’t only about food and beverage, but also about attention and listening. So rather than taking sides with one or the other sister, we do better by remembering that there is a balance to be found between the sisters, despite how any of us are wired. We need time to reflect, to sit at Christ’s feet, to contemplate the Holy because sometimes the contemplative practice modeled by Mary leads to action and gives clarity to what we are called to do next. Perhaps in contemplation, Martha would be able to recognize that the issue wasn’t so much with her sister, but with her own feelings. The more precise point is not what has to be done, but what her “doing” is doing to her, and how it’s discombobulating her. Jesus’ criticism isn’t about Martha, but her distractedness. The Greek translation of that word, distracted, suggests being jerked around or pulled in different directions, and who among us hasn’t felt that way from time to time? When the dust settles, and we’ve had a bit of rest for reflection, we can see that all the directions or pulling weren’t so much the issue as the inability to better focus on what needs to be done first, then second and so on. We can easily get lost in the debate of whether service or study is better, but really, we need both. We need to pay bills, run errands, and buy and sort groceries, check through the fishing lures. When those needs get pushed together and cause us to feel stretched out of shape, that’s when we start to feel out of control. The balance is not Freedom from distractions, but finding the freedom for service and contemplation. William Willimon put it so well. “There’s no Sunday morning worship without Wednesday night choir practice.” The second thought about this passage is a little different, and comes from a delightful pastor, Rev. Bri Desotell, who has a blog called “Grace with a Side of Ducks.” Her point is that this isn’t a story about whose way is better – but about who is welcome, in the household of God, and who is welcome at the table of Christ. Rev. Karoline Lewis asked the point as a question. “What if this story has nothing to do with who is better and everything to do with who matters?” In full human nature, it is easy to tear someone down, criticize each other, and undermine one another in attempt to feel better about ourselves. Which circles back to the contemplation idea, of examining motivations for our behaviors. But if we take another track, noticing that Jesus didn’t shoo either woman away, we get that even though families can be hard, even though the family of God can be hard, Jesus welcomes everyone to the table and that everyone has a role to play, even if those roles need to be played at different times. To be sure, it’s a big, messy, beautiful table of Christ. And we will, by definition of human nature, sometimes forget the table and check worthiness cards at the doors - subjectively speaking. At times we forget about loving one another with the same generous and gracious spirit of our rabbi, who refuses to send anyone away. And thank heavens for forgiveness and mercy and second chances - at least with God. With people, we’re not always so successful. But with God, there is always hospitality and compassion. In a time when it seems there is so much division, when people who are afraid of losing their power - use their power to make us fear one another, we all need reminding that we all are welcome as we gather. Should the time be as carefree as when we were children, we need reminding that what seems to divide us is not reality, because we are all made in Christ’s image, so no one is more welcome than another. When we are hearing so many differing messages from so many sources, we need this gathering that joins with all the other gatherings around the world, to know that we have a place, not because of what we look like or what we’ve done or where we’ve been, but because of God’s grace. We don’t have freedom from one thing for another, but freedom for balance in serving God’s people out of the overflowing gratitude to be included at such a precious and prestigious table. Which is a perfect table at which to pray. Holy God, Three in One, we are grateful that our world needs Marys and Marthas and Bobs and Barneys and all those you created from the twinkle in your eye. When we forget such essential truth, forgive us and inspire us to rise above our failings. Thank you for giving us purpose - to offer hospitality and compassion, to work with dedication and persistence and to return to the well of grace, to drink deeply from the teachings and example of our Lord and our Savior – and then to return to the world, to offer hospitality and compassion all over again as all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
July 10, 2022 5th Sunday after Pentecost Luke 10:25-37 “Why Is It Always So Difficult?” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching There is a man selling plane rides in his single prop show plane for $10 a person at the state fair. Sven looks to Martha and says, "Martha, I think I really should try that." Martha replies, "I know you want to Sven, but we have a lot of bills, and you know the money is tight, and $10 is $10." So Sven goes without. Over the next few years they return, and it’s the same thing, Sven wants to ride, but Martha says no money. Finally, when Sven and Martha are both about 70 years old, Sven looks at Martha, and says, "Martha, I'm 70 now, and I don't know if I'll ever get the chance again, so I just have to have a ride in that there airplane." Martha replies in the same old fashion, and Sven just slumps down. The pilot is standing near by and overhears the conversation. He pipes up, "Excuse me, folks, I couldn't help but hear your situation, and I have a deal for you. I'll take both of you up together, and if you can both make the entire trip without saying a word, or even making the slightest sound, I'll give you the ride for free. But if either of you makes a sound, it's $10 each." Martha and Sven look at each other and agree to take the ride. The pilot takes them up, and starts to do loop de loops, twists, dives, climbs, and spins. No sound. The pilot lands the plane, looks back at Sven, and says, "Sir, I have to hand it to ya, you didn't make even the slightest sound and that was my best stuff." Sven looks back at the pilot and says, "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but $10 is $10…" John 10:38-42 38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" 41 "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." Thank you, Sonia. I don’t know about anyone else, but in regard to this relatively famous passage, I have questions. Why didn’t Jesus urge Mary to help Martha to get the necessary work done quickly, and then they both could sit down at Jesus’ feet? Everyone had to eat, regardless. Wishful thinking has Jesus telling everyone - men included - to help with supper after his teaching is done. Isn’t it interesting that this story seems to pit two sisters against each other while Jesus was mainly about bringing everyone into the circle? Isn’t it intriguing that this is about the sisters of Lazarus, but he doesn’t even get a nod? And isn’t it interesting that this story messes with the “Protestant” work ethic that has been revered by so many? It certainly messes with gender-specific roles for women and men - Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet being a role traditionally held by males. And yet, some feminists are also disturbed at this passage because Martha is rebuked for her sharp tongue while Mary is praised for kneeling down at a man’s feet and keeping her mouth shut. It’s almost as if there’s no “win” to embracing this scene. As mentioned last week, scriptures are intended to draw us in, even to the point of making us so uncomfortable, that we can’t help but discuss the issue with someone else. I don’t recall who said it, but someone in my research suggested that if you are not disturbed by this event, you’re probably not paying attention. Jesus wanted to get people to look at life differently, and sometimes, the only way to get out of old ways of thinking to begin new perspectives of the kingdom was/is to shock them. Being such cultured 21st-century people of faith, we may miss the fact that this is a story - from the Bible - about two women - with names - who aren’t merely in the background, but front and center. Even after repeated readings of the passage, we might miss that mention of the house being Martha’s house - not a man’s house, but her house. The mention of her name and that house also indicates that she was the head of her household - without any apologies or explanations. In many respects, Martha is a gracious host to an important guest in her home, breaking the rules and the mold with a well-intentioned if not well-appointed table. Not what first century people would expect at all. In her own quiet way, Mary displays her rule-breaking by sitting at Jesus’ feet - a place where women were absolutely not allowed to be. But she does it anyway. In different ways, the sisters are cultural rebels - Martha running her own home and Mary taking the disciple’s seat. There’s one word that has been the steering wheel of this scenario for a long time - the word “but.” But Martha. You can almost hear the tsking. To compound that practice, Jesus scolds Martha with a back-handed compliment to Mary - she who has chosen what is better. All that said, there are two thoughts about this passage that may not get much press, but I do think they are important pieces for our spiritual lives. The first thought is that we need to take a step back to remember the passage that comes right before this - the one about the Good Samaritan. When the writer of Luke was putting all the pieces together, deciding which story goes where, what passage follows the other, that person was deliberate in pasting the Samaritan story before the Mary and Martha story. The Good Samaritan story is one of need, ignored by the religious leaders caught up in holy concerns - legitimately or illegitimately. The wounded man needed help because the leaders’ thoughts weren’t enough. So the Good Samaritan goes into Martha mode and actually does something. It’s obvious that Martha is trying to “do” something, but so is Mary - by sitting and listening to what Jesus has to say. And being hospitable isn’t only about food and beverage, but also about attention and listening. So rather than taking sides with one or the other sister, we do better by remembering that there is a balance to be found between the sisters, despite how any of us are wired. We need time to reflect, to sit at Christ’s feet, to contemplate the Holy because sometimes the contemplative practice modeled by Mary leads to action and gives clarity to what we are called to do next. Perhaps in contemplation, Martha would be able to recognize that the issue wasn’t so much with her sister, but with her own feelings. The more precise point is not what has to be done, but what her “doing” is doing to her, and how it’s discombobulating her. Jesus’ criticism isn’t about Martha, but her distractedness. The Greek translation of that word, distracted, suggests being jerked around or pulled in different directions, and who among us hasn’t felt that way from time to time? When the dust settles, and we’ve had a bit of rest for reflection, we can see that all the directions or pulling weren’t so much the issue as the inability to better focus on what needs to be done first, then second and so on. We can easily get lost in the debate of whether service or study is better, but really, we need both. We need to pay bills, run errands, and buy and sort groceries, check through the fishing lures. When those needs get pushed together and cause us to feel stretched out of shape, that’s when we start to feel out of control. The balance is not Freedom from distractions, but finding the freedom for service and contemplation. William Willimon put it so well. “There’s no Sunday morning worship without Wednesday night choir practice.” The second thought about this passage is a little different, and comes from a delightful pastor, Rev. Bri Desotell, who has a blog called “Grace with a Side of Ducks.” Her point is that this isn’t a story about whose way is better – but about who is welcome, in the household of God, and who is welcome at the table of Christ. Rev. Karoline Lewis asked the point as a question. “What if this story has nothing to do with who is better and everything to do with who matters?” In full human nature, it is easy to tear someone down, criticize each other, and undermine one another in attempt to feel better about ourselves. Which circles back to the contemplation idea, of examining motivations for our behaviors. But if we take another track, noticing that Jesus didn’t shoo either woman away, we get that even though families can be hard, even though the family of God can be hard, Jesus welcomes everyone to the table and that everyone has a role to play, even if those roles need to be played at different times. To be sure, it’s a big, messy, beautiful table of Christ. And we will, by definition of human nature, sometimes forget the table and check worthiness cards at the doors - subjectively speaking. At times we forget about loving one another with the same generous and gracious spirit of our rabbi, who refuses to send anyone away. And thank heavens for forgiveness and mercy and second chances - at least with God. With people, we’re not always so successful. But with God, there is always hospitality and compassion. In a time when it seems there is so much division, when people who are afraid of losing their power - use their power to make us fear one another, we all need reminding that we all are welcome as we gather. Should the time be as carefree as when we were children, we need reminding that what seems to divide us is not reality, because we are all made in Christ’s image, so no one is more welcome than another. When we are hearing so many differing messages from so many sources, we need this gathering that joins with all the other gatherings around the world, to know that we have a place, not because of what we look like or what we’ve done or where we’ve been, but because of God’s grace. We don’t have freedom from one thing for another, but freedom for balance in serving God’s people out of the overflowing gratitude to be included at such a precious and prestigious table. Which is a perfect table at which to pray. Holy God, Three in One, we are grateful that our world needs Marys and Marthas and Bobs and Barneys and all those you created from the twinkle in your eye. When we forget such essential truth, forgive us and inspire us to rise above our failings. Thank you for giving us purpose - to offer hospitality and compassion, to work with dedication and persistence and to return to the well of grace, to drink deeply from the teachings and example of our Lord and our Savior – and then to return to the world, to offer hospitality and compassion all over again as all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
July 3, 2022 4th Sunday after Pentecost Galatians 6:1-10 “Reading Our Own Mail” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching One morning a little girl sat at a kitchen table to eat breakfast with her mother and father. As she listened to the prayer her father prayed before the meal, she was especially intrigued that he thanked God for God's presence everywhere. After the father finished his prayer the little girl asked him, "Father, is it really true that God is everywhere?” "Yes," said her father. "Is God in this house?" she asked. "Yes," her father said. "Is God in this kitchen?” "Yes," her father said. "Is God on this table?" she asked. "Yes," her father said. The little girl hesitated and then asked, "Is God in this cup?” Her father said, “Yes." Upon hearing this the little girl quickly covered the cup with her hand and exclaimed, "I've got Him!” This morning’s scripture passage is not necessarily one that would be at the top of the list for an Independence Day weekend Sunday sermon. And it’s definitely not one that is easily captured in a cup or any other vessel. It absolutely has good stuff for us, particularly at this moment in our history and world. But just a bit before we get to it. It's from the last chapter of a letter Paul wrote to the people in Galatia. The overall theme is the importance of getting the basic gospel straight. Scholars have suggested that Galatia is either a significant area of modern Turkey, or a region defined by an ethnic group of Celtic people in the same area. In the effort to spread the Good News of God’s love, some Christians in Galatia were getting a little too zealous in making their identity known as followers of Christ. The zealous ones were going back to the Mosaic Law of the first five books of the Old Testament. The black and white infractions and punishments were appealing in determining who was “in” and who was “out” of the Jesus club. Paul’s letter was to get them to see the grace that is also to be indicative of Christ-followers. Galatians 6:1-10 1 Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore them gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. 2 Carry each other's burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ. 3 If anyone thinks they are something when they are nothing, they deceive themselves. 4 Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves, without comparing themselves to somebody else, 5 for each one should carry their own load. 6 Anyone who receives instruction in the word must share all good things with their instructor. 7 Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A person reaps what they sow. 8 The one who sows to please their sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. 9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. 10 Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers. Thank you, Alicia. The sermon title today comes from something that one of my seminary professors said once. Can’t tell you who or what class it was, but it made a lot of sense then, and still does - 26 years later. He said, when it comes to reading the Bible, make sure you are reading your own mail. It doesn’t happen as much as it did for a while, but every so often, a piece of mail finds its way into my box, and living in a world, in my head, where most things are good and right, it doesn’t dawn on me that it might be someone else’s mail. It is especially embarrassing when you open the mail and wonder how on earth you got on that mail list. And then you see the label and wonder how on earth I could make such a mistake. I’ve described this event, because I’m so very sure it has never happened to anyone else, so now we’re on the same playing field. In regard to this passage and this theme, the point is better made when we have a couple of other passages, one also written by the great Paul, but to different groups of people. They all deal with the idea of discipline, but the situations are so different. In the book of Matthew, there is a piece of chapter 18 that has Jesus describing the procedure to correct “sin.” “If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over.” In this instance, Jesus stresses the process of rebuke without any specific problem in mind. I might also suggest that while this may be a Biblical approach, it ought to be accompanied by a great deal of tact and prayer beforehand. In 1 Corinthians, Paul describes a very specific situation in chapter 5, where a man was known to be living with his father’s wife, at which even unbelievers were shocked. The Corinthian Christians were proud of their tolerance of “love,” so Paul’s admonishments were to bring them back into the balance of being ethical and responsible followers of Christ. In today’s passage, just the opposite is the case. Rather than overlooking serious sin, the Galatian Christians emphasized harsh and judgmental legalism, mainly as it pertained to the topic of circumcision. If you said you were a Christian, that is how you lived up to the claim. The remedy for the Corinthians was to exercise judgment; the Galatians needed to extend mercy. If you need mail that addresses the irresponsible, willy-nilly way you live as a follower of Christ, she said tongue-in-cheek - then maybe spending some time in 1 Corinthians is the mail catalog for you. If you need mail that addresses the guilt-ladened perfectionistic way you try to live out your following of Christ, Galatians is going to be a far more helpful mail catalog for you. To read the wrong mail is not only harmful but de-legitimizes your walk as a Christ-follower. Kathleen Peterson of ministry matters.com gives us a picture of the need for correct mail. She was visiting a family that had a little boy, and while there, accidentally knocked a candy off an Advent chain of candies. The young boy was apparently Gestapo-like in his mission to loudly announce Ms. Peterson’s awful offense to everyone. The child was so heavily "under the gun" himself, that his need for the relief of redirecting blame onto others was overwhelming. Ms. Peterson went on to point out that “This kind of distraction - looking away from looking at one's "own work" - just postpones the day of reckoning with one's own guilt and need for freedom from it. "You who have received the Spirit" (v. 1) don't have to go around with all kinds of opinions and assumptions that you know are right. You can be wrong sometimes and that's all right, because all your transgressions, past, present, and future, have been accounted for. So you don't need scapegoats to accuse and attack and you can deal gently with those who may need some brightening of their ways to gradually sink in. Now I’m not necessarily all excited about getting into anyone’s face about how they behave - or don’t. I was raised to be Minnesota-Nice. I’m not even so sure that that sort of making a person’s so-called sin plain for all to see is even all that helpful in this day and age - and I’m not talking about serious crimes. Our country has spent unimaginable amounts of money trying to prove that someone is guilty of particular sin infractions that were unnecessary wastes of time and energy in cases in which the allegations were false. And the real sorrow - at least to this heart - is that without God’s Holy Spirit, I don’t know if we will ever rise above such greed and apathy. I’m not really sure why, but I’ve long been fascinated by yokes - be they straight sticks or fashioned instruments constructed with comfort in mind. They don’t have to be perfectly matched or leveled to work, but close enough. And they certainly give and take in their balance while getting bigger work done. Which is also the picture when we put together the “carrying of each other's burdens” with “testing our own actions.” The yoke image is so right for being patient with one another and with ourselves. The yoke of gentleness that carries those in trouble is the same that carries attention to self-awareness. Encouragement balances out contentment. I know I’ve used the illustration before, but not in this way - I don’t think. In Poland, their famous concert pianist and prime minister, Ignacy Paderewski was backstage, waiting for a concert to begin. A mother, wanting to encourage her young son in the piano, got tickets to the performance. Mother and son found their seats near the front and admired the imposing Steinway waiting onstage. As the mother got to talking with a friend, the boy wandered off. At eight o'clock the lights dimmed, the spotlight came on, and the audience looked up to see the little boy perched on the piano bench, plunking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Gasping, the mother got up to get her son. But the master had already walked onstage and went quickly to the piano. "Don't quit. Keep playing," he said leaning over the boy. With his left hand Paderewski began filling in the bass part. Then he reached around the other side with his right, to add the top part, encircling the child. Together the younger child and the older master held the audience enthralled. It’s not a perfect yoke picture, but there is something yoke-like between child and adult, accomplished professional and beginner, playing in the middle and playing on the ends. And then we extrapolate the image even further, to us - and God - balancing out the melodies of restoration and wholeness with humility and self-awareness. This is not, upfront, a message that is particularly patriotic or celebratory, except that the freedoms we are privileged to hold make our jobs of restoration of souls so much easier. Being able to join with the Holy Spirit to honestly and transparently determine the mail we need is not universally or freely embraced as some of our brothers and sisters struggle under the thumb of legalism and cruelty. Wesley White, of Kairos CoMotion Lectionary Dialogue wrote, “Work for the good of all. Why? Because the cosmic payoff is worth it - a new creation. Enough said.” And so we can pray. Holy Spirit of whispers and breezes, we thank you for your gentle messages of encouragement and persuasion. And we are grateful for the louder messages of warning and attention. And we appreciate your Spirit of new creations, morning after morning. For those times when we willfully close our ears and hearts to your needs of us, we ask for your grace and forgiveness. As we reflect on our place in this world this week, help us to do so in honesty and humility, that our gratitude may be all the greater. And all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
June 26, 2022 3rd Sunday after Pentecost Luke 7:36-8:3 “Distracted Discipleship” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching So it’s after the resurrection and boy is Jesus in the mood for some partying. He gets the disciples together and heads for the club! They hit the dance floor, but something is wrong - Jesus just can’t seem to get in the groove with the music. He tries and tries, but finally yells out. . . Help! I’ve risen and I can’t get down! (Help! I’ve fallen and can’t get up!) This morning I welcome you to the church season of Ordinary Time. We mark it here with the front cover of the bulletin, as the designated Sunday after Pentecost. In today’s case, it’s the second Sunday. We also mark it with the color of the paraments - the altar cloth and sometimes the pulpit banner - when they match. It’s the longest of church seasons, being nearly six months, so the designation of “ordinary” is quite appropriate. Lectionary-wise, we are in year C of AB and C, which means that we will spend the next months - until the first Sunday in Advent - in the book of Luke. In terms of chronology, Luke 9 contains the sending out the 12 disciples for missionary work, feeding 5,000+ people with five loaves and two fish, Peter declaring Jesus as the Messiah, Jesus predicting his death, and then his transfiguration on Mount Tabor. If you look at the inside of your announcement sheet, I’ve included a little map, and Mount Tabor is south of the Galilee name rectangle, to the left - or west - of the river that runs through the map - the Jordan River. From Mount Tabor, I ask you to keep going south, into the region of Samaria, to find Mount Gerizim, and then on down from that, to Jerusalem - the underlined city, also to the west, but of the Dead Sea. Mount Gerizim was the holy place of the Samaritan people as Jerusalem was to the Jewish people - and even though both groups worshiped God, they would get to more than fisticuffs over their opinions. This morning’s passage begins somewhere around Mount Tabor, which is roughly 65 miles by car southwest or 22 hours by foot to the area of Samaria. At the usual walking speed of 2.5 to 4 miles a day, it was not an overnight journey. I point this out, because that sort of travel was likely to make one tired, and everyone has had experience with tired, hangry travel that distances you from your best self. The other contextual element is the reminder that the brothers, James and John, were nicknamed “Sons of Thunder,” which spoke to their character as nicknames are sometimes want to do. Luke 9:51-62 51 As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. 52 And he sent messengers on ahead, who went into a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; 53 but the people there did not welcome him, because he was heading for Jerusalem. 54 When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, "Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them ?" 55 But Jesus turned and rebuked them, 56 and they went to another village. 57 As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go." 58 Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." 59 He said to another man, "Follow me." But the man replied, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." 60 Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God." 61 Still another said, "I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family." 62 Jesus replied, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” Thank you, Phil. In my meanderings for today’s message, I came across a Rev. Stacy Sauls, bishop in the Episcopalian church, doing a good share of his ministry to the Appalachian poor. Fr. Sauls was reminiscing about his grandfather plowing, which got me thinking about my dad. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been recording Dad when he starts telling stories from his past, because, 1 - I’ll never remember them all - and 2 - there is great sermon material in some of his stories! Rev. Sauls talked about how his grandfather once chewed him out for talking while he was plowing, distracting his grandfather and potentially causing a crooked row. Dad didn’t talk about crooked rows, but he talked about being eight or nine years old and plowing behind two horses. And he remembers that on clear nights, they might be in the field until 11:30 or midnight, and then walk the 25 minutes across the 40 acres that separated Grandpa’s far-field from the homestead parcel. Apparently, there was great joy when Grandpa got a second tractor, allowing for work to be accomplished faster, eliminating the potential of running into the fence and having to tell Grandpa about it. It was probably the early version of distracted driving - driving a team of horses…. Fr. Sauls also thought that this passage was more about Jesus being cranky - interpreting the replies to offers of discipleship as being snarky. After all, regardless of ethnicity, denying hospitality to a traveler back then was widely considered a deep, disrespectful insult. That sort of hospitality is an interesting thought, thinking about all the travelers that will be coming to Benzie County in the next couple of months. Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but in Luke’s gospel, it wasn’t all that long since Jesus’ mountain top experience of divine affirmation, and if anything, I think that an argument of Jesus being a little softer might be made. Regardless of his mood, I had to smile at Steven Garnaas Holmes take on the Thunder boys. He paraphrased it to sound like a couple of mobsters, “Boss, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” Actually, Rev. Holmes’ point was in a piece he sent out earlier in the week. He wrote, “Don't you just want to slap James and John for being such idiots? In fact, why stop there? Why not command fire to come down and consume them? Funny how (a) we want to destroy people who disagree with us, (b) we imagine we can do so, even if just by insulting them, and (c) we assume Jesus likes that. Wrong all three times. (When fire actually does come down from heaven, as at Pentecost, it doesn't destroy people; it destroys our divisions, connects us, and helps us communicate when previously we hadn't.) So when people won't listen to us or even won't accept us, what do we do? Instead of calling down fire, call up the fruits the Spirit has given you: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Rev. Holmes ended his offering with “Practice this among your enemies and see how you are blessed.” I don’t know that so many of us have out-and-out enemies, least-wise not those that spur us into keeping a loaded rifle by the back door. But most of us have people that wouldn’t agree with us if we dared speak aloud to particular topics. It was interesting that a lot of the research I came across this week seemed to focus on the idea of obedience to being disciples of Christ - no matter what the cost or requirement. But that direction didn’t sit all that well in my heart. And I’m mighty glad to have been able to have the time to rumble around with the research this week, because when I came across Rev. Dr. Janet Hunt’s point, this passage finally made sense, at least to my brain. Don’t get me wrong, we probably all have a little something we could work on when it comes to being a better disciple after Christ. But I also think we need to look at this passage within our own context, of this day and age, and the message it has for us contemporary disciples. Rev. Hunt’s contention with this passage is that we have to make choices, sometimes between really good and honorable options. Specifically, she was talking about a decision she had to make over conducting a friend’s funeral or attending her Methodist Annual Conference, at which a big topic was to be entertained. It wasn’t that she was choosing between a meeting or funeral and going on a shopping trip to the Mall of America. Both events were valid and needful, and she ended up choosing the friend’s funeral - not so much because it was all about her friend, but her choice, and I quote, “is all the more important in a culture which habitually and perpetually tends to deny and even run from death and grief and loss.” She went on, “To me, these do not seem to be occasions when the 'dead are burying the dead,' but when those living in faith and hope are doing so. This way of thinking is so much a part of me that I find myself concluding that it surely could be dangerous, or at least profoundly irresponsible, to receive these words of Jesus as some kind of black and white expectation of you and I who follow him.” Yay, Rev. Hunt! Rev. Dr. John Claypool is an Episcopalian priest who served several churches in the southeast, and he tells the story of a thunderstorm that swept through the farm where his forebears had lived for six generations in southern Kentucky. In the orchard, the wind blew over an old pear tree that had been there as long as anybody could remember. Claypool's grandfather was saddened to lose the tree on which he had climbed as a boy and whose fruit he had eaten all his life. A neighbor came by and said, "Doc, I'm really sorry to see your pear tree blown down." "I'm sorry too," said his grandfather. "It was a real part of my past. "What are you going to do?" the neighbor asked. His grandfather paused for a moment and then said, "I'm going to pick the fruit and burn what's left." "That is the wise way to deal with many things in our past," says John Claypool. "We need to learn their lessons, enjoy their pleasures, and then go on with the present and the future.” "No one who puts a hand to the plow while looking back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Sometimes we get distracted, sometimes we need to live through our discipleship commitments and our integrity in attending to responsibilities. Other times, we need to follow the Spirit’s call. If it were a simple matter of throwing everything down to follow Christ, it doesn’t seem very responsible to abandon all that is present in our lives that reflect God and our discipleship of considerate discernment of priorities. I don’t think distracted discipleship would make it on a new set of commandments, because most of the time, it’s simply that we are human, and sometimes tired and hangry and really just want to put our head down for a while. Being human was how we are created, and it makes no sense that God would chastise us for being distracted, being responsible, or being honorable. It makes more sense that we open our arms as often as we can, to the travelers that need a little respite, whether they are strangers, family or friends. And God knows, too, there are some personalities that don’t do well together, so we don’t always need to force such issues of hospitality. Sometimes, keeping the hand to the plow is allowing others to come into our realm of influence, that we might become better disciples for their inclusion in our lives. And so we pray. Holy, Welcoming Spirit, we are aware of the idea of ‘to whom much has been given, much is required.’ We are also aware that you call us in so many different ways, to serve as agents of your love. Today we are reminded again that we also need balance in our lives, that allows us to embrace all that you have, for us and all your people. When we fall short, forgive us. When we need both hands on the plow, make it evident to us. When we need to rest, give us the peace to do so without guilt or embarrassment. And when we are distracted, Great Creator, help us to enjoy the view. And all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
June 19, 2022 Second Sunday after Pentecost and Father’s Day Luke 8:26-39 “Drawing the Circle Wide” Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching Luke 8:26-39 26 They sailed to the region of the Gerasenes, which is across the lake from Galilee. 27 When Jesus stepped ashore, he was met by a demon-possessed man from the town. For a long time, this man had not worn clothes or lived in a house, but had lived in the tombs. 28 When he saw Jesus, he cried out and fell at his feet, shouting at the top of his voice, "What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, don't torture me!" 29 For Jesus had commanded the evil spirit to come out of the man. Many times it had seized him, and though he was chained hand and foot and kept under guard, he had broken his chains and had been driven by the demon into solitary places. 30 Jesus asked him, "What is your name?" 31 "Legion," he replied because many demons had gone into him. And they begged him repeatedly not to order them to go into the Abyss. 32 A large herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside. The demons begged Jesus to let them go into them, and he gave them permission. 33 When the demons came out of the man, they went into the pigs, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned. 34 When those tending the pigs saw what had happened, they ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, 35 and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone out, sitting at Jesus' feet, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. 36 Those who had seen it told the people how the demon-possessed man had been cured. 37 Then all the people of the region of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them because they were overcome with fear. So he got into the boat and left. 38 The man from whom the demons had gone out begged to go with him, but Jesus sent him away, saying, 39 "Return home and tell how much God has done for you." So the man went away and told all over town how much Jesus had done for him. You probably didn’t expect me today. You probably never knew I existed. And no one will testify to my identity. But, I am here - now - the sister of the one you just heard about - the one that has no name to you except demoniac - the one our family called Wolf. Our mother said that even as a baby, Wolf was a little on the wild side, even though he was shy. And I adored him. We were close as babies, and I wanted to protect him - always as his big sister. We just thought of him as Wolf, but as he grew older, Wolf became more - odd. Most of the time, he was just fine, silly, caring, loving, protective, even patient. But every so often, it was like he heard another voice in his head and he would do strange things. At first, they weren’t big things’ stealing a fig here, breaking a cup on purpose there. Our family would brush the ‘infractions’ off and hope that our friends and neighbors would forget them. But as Wolf got older, the damage he did couldn’t be excused. And it was so hard, because one minute, he’d cheerfully take a cup of water to workers on a hot day, and the next minute, he would take a nearby tool and break the chair or overturn the pot cooking dinner. It made no sense to us, and we couldn’t stop loving him, but we became scared, fearful that someone would become seriously hurt, himself or another, and one day, there might be no more compassion for him. It was one of the hardest things we ever did as a family - the day we told Wolf he had to leave our home. The memory of that day never ceases to bring tears to the surface of my eyes. So he lived with the dead, although we brought him food as often as we could. He stopped caring about his appearance; dust and twigs clinging to his unmanaged hair and beard, his tattered clothes. When his sandals fell apart, they weren’t replaced. And finally, he stopped wearing clothes altogether. People would look at us as if we were guilty of not controlling him. We tried. We tried tying him to his bed, but he got out of his bindings. We tried chains and guards, but just because he was sick in the head didn’t mean he wasn’t still smart - and strong. It seemed to become more evident that the ultimate means of controlling my little brother would be near, if you know what I mean, because I can’t bring myself to even say the word. And then one day, everything changed. Jesus - the one the called the Son of the Most High God - came across the lake. They said that this man was a healer, a miracle worker. If anyone ever needed a miracle, it was my Wolf. But the chances of Wolf and Jesus crossing paths seemed slim at best. How would he even know that Jesus was there? Somehow, it happened, and maybe that was the first miracle. Wolf’s sickness changed the way he thought of himself, and when Jesus asked him his name, Wolf replied “Legion.” It was about that time that I heard that these two had met, so I hurried down to the shore, making my way through the crowd that had gathered. I cannot explain what happened next, except that I saw it with my own eyes. Wolf - Legion - began begging Jesus to leave him - them - alone. Irony: demons asking not to suffer. I have no idea how it happened, but the demons left my beloved brother and were thrown into a herd of pigs, that then ran down into the lake, drowning themselves. The whole story sounds as crazed as my brother was. Except that he wasn’t from that point on. I don’t know where they came from, but clothes were brought for Wolf, and a comb and sandals. His circle grew a little bit, in that gifting. His face looked so different, almost as if someone erased the frown of torture from his forehead. The big thing was his eyes. His eyes once again had the light that they had when we were children - of innocence and wonder and light. I laughed inside because Wolf said he wanted to go with Jesus, and who could blame him. If this Son of the Most High God could heal my brother of such torment, imagine what else he could do! When Jesus told him no, that he was to go home to tell people how much God had done for him, I thought it was the best of advice, because maybe, just maybe, this miracle would last, and I would get my brother back. In the end, it might have seemed more kind to let Wolf go with Jesus. It wasn’t that what Wolf had to say was hard. The hard part was the listening, and taking in of his change. The pain and agony Wolf had brought to our family, friends and community was a fresh as a grape picked from a vine. We were afraid to trust this change, afraid that it was an act, and that tomorrow would find him back in the graveyard, the place that had actually become his refuge. It didn’t seem right for him to go back to the tombs, so he came home. And anguish moved in with him. None of us had changed, but the more that Wolf spoke about what Jesus did, the more suspicious people became - not only of him, but of our whole family. It took a while for him to fit back into the family, reassigning chores and roles. And we got to functioning pretty well. But outside, in our neighborhood, in the market and synagogue, that was a different story. And I certainly wouldn’t blame them for being afraid of what Wolf might do. They should absolutely be on guard should harm happen. But regaining trust was hard - for Wolf himself, for us his family, and the larger circle of friends and community. But I’ve learned a few things I share with you, so that the circle of my brother’s healing continues to widen. It’s not that there are no distinctions in this world, that we are somehow all alike. We are so very different, but we are not separate. This same Jesus that restored my Wolf also said that we ought to love our neighbors as ourselves. What I’ve come to understand is that we love our neighbors because we are part of them and they are part of us, and all of us part of a much greater whole. I also learned, and I give to you what you probably already know, that demons, like those that infested my brother, point to invisible powers, powers that recognize Jesus, who has greater power. And sometimes that power is hard to trust, even though it is good. I have also learned that this Jesus gave a prayer that we can use, and it mentions those who “sin” against us. I won’t attempt a list of sins, but point out that this prayer doesn’t include healing of physical, spiritual, social or psychological issues, but deliverance from evil. The sin of evil that separates and drives into herds of people that think of themselves as superior over others - to the detriment of all. Lest you think that I am arrogant, I have questions after Wolf’s deliverance. Why doesn’t Jesus heal all people? If he is the Son of the Most High God, why aren’t we all free of pain and sorrow and agony? —- I suppose it wouldn’t be right for this Most High God to leave us without work to do - work like prayer, extending comfort, drawing the healing of the Most High God’s circle wider. I have begun to see small changes in our neighborhood, people beginning to lower the fence of their suspicions about Wolf, as they begin to embrace that which Jesus did that day. I’ve noticed it in little things, like when our neighbor, Tova, died. We’re learning not to ask “what can I do” - which can seem distant, but to say, “I’m so sorry this happened,” which draws us closer to their pain. And you probably already know - that it takes a village to grow us - more often than not - well past our childhood years - and that denying the need for such help is perhaps closer to sin than anyone would like to admit. There are perhaps a great many more things I could share with you, but I leave you with this last one. I saw it. I still don’t fully understand it. I don’t know if I ever will. But what happened to my brother has opened the door to the possibility that mind-boggling things happen, which can help us open the door to more possibilities - drawing ever-widening circles of protection and shelter and restoration. I think that your pastor would now like to pray. Most High God, thank you for your circles of love and inclusion because we well know that on any given day, choices and decisions can or would have us on the outside looking to come into your love. Thank you for infinity and revelations and miracles and all the other aspects of life that seem so far beyond us, and yet we are “in” them. Forgive us when fatigue and burdens and fear limit our energies and awareness. So we pray for your restorations of us and your church, that we continue to draw wider and wider circles around your heart. And all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church
|
Author
Just the messenger. And the collector and arranger of that which has been received. References available upon request. Archives
November 2022
|