First Congregational Church
December 9, 2018
Second Sunday in Advent
Luke 3:1-6
“Yen for the Least Likely”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

One day, back in the wild West, a stranger stood at a saloon bar. Suddenly a cowboy ran in screaming, “Hey, everybody, Big Bad John is coming to town.” Several others exclaimed: “Big Bad John is the meanest, toughest, biggest outlaw in the West. Let’s run for it.” 

Everyone headed for the door except the stranger and the bartender. The bartender said, “Are you deaf, mister? Big Bad John is coming!” The stranger replied, “I don’t know who he is, but he can’t be all that big and bad. I’m not afraid.” So the stranger and the bartender waited. Soon the saloon doors flew off their hinges, and a mountain of a man stomped through the door. Covered with scars and sporting a scowl, he demanded a drink. 

The bartender meekly complied. The stranger nervously thought to himself, “Now I wish I had run away; this guy is the biggest, meanest-looking outlaw I’ve ever seen.” The outlaw downed the drink in one gulp, slammed it down on the bar, then turned and looked the stranger coldly in the eye to announce, “I don’t know about you, stranger, but I’m gettin’ outta here. I don’t wanna be here when Big Bad John comes in!”

Anticipation and surprise: two of the best tools in communication - at least in my humble opinion. The gospel of Luke begins with the prophecy of John the Baptist’s birth from a woman thought to be barren - and surprise! - he was born. 

Luke tells us that John grew and became strong in spirit; living in the wilderness, while cousin Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man. Jesus took on the carpenter trade while John transitioned to a preacher in the wilderness. It is in the gospel of Matthew that we get the wonderful vision of the “calloused and filthy foot of a wild ox of a man called John who got wild honey dripping off his scraggly beard and was arrayed in something that could best be described as resembling the fur of some road-kill animal from the side of a highway”, as Michal Beth Dinkler, Assistant Professor of New Testament, Yale Divinity School described him.

Last week we explored the surprise lectionary passage set against the backdrop of the kingdom of God at the end of Luke. Today we get a passage nearer the beginning of Luke, against a backdrop of roads and wilderness. 

Luke 3:1-6 
John the Baptist Prepares the Way
3 In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar—when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene— 2 during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. 3 He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 4 As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet:
“A voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.
5 Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. 6 And all people will see God’s salvation.’”

Thank you, Robin. Back in 1992, before recycling was as big a deal as it is now, a New York City businessman decided to avoid a $20 service charge by replacing a fluorescent light himself. After he had smuggled a new light into his office and put it in place, he decided to get rid of the old tube by throwing it in the trash can near his subway stop. 

That night he got on the subway holding the seven-foot light vertically, with one end resting on the floor of the car. As the train became more crowded other passengers took hold of the tube, assuming it was a stanchion. By the time the man reached his stop, he simply removed his hand and exited the car, leaving the other passengers gripping the fluorescent tube! Not that I would promote such an action, it is another fine example of anticipation and surprise. 

The writing of this message was interesting because I found myself mentally substituting a word I have heard a million times - give or take a few thousand. The words in question are wilderness and desert. Some Bible versions use desert for wilderness, and it’s probably not such a big deal, but there is a subtle distinction between them. A desert usually implies a dryness and perhaps sandy location: the Sahara or Death Valley coming to mind. A wilderness can be a desert, but it can also be the farthest reaches of Alaska, Tibet, or even a neglected or abandoned area of a garden or town. People can learn to live in both deserts and wildernesses, but I’m guessing it might be easier living in a wilderness, perhaps because of the probable or near presence of water. But that’s just a guess.

Long before John the Baptist, the wilderness was a place - counter-intuitively, perhaps - of safety and divine provision. Young David ran to the desert to escape Saul’s wrath, and the prophet Elijah fled from persecution into the wilderness. Moses led the people of Israel through their forty-year sojourn in the wilderness - and they were provided food. Jesus, himself, was known to take wilderness respite, most notably his 40 day wilderness retreat where he was faced with temptations of all sorts. 

Gary Hilfiger of All Saints Lutheran Church in Richmond, Texas pointed out that in Jerusalem, when the word of God was drowned out, you go to the wilderness (not necessarily desert) to hear it. That insight makes a lot of sense, especially in light of all the government officials listed in the beginning of this morning’s scripture passage. All those religious politicians like Pontius Pilot, Herod, Phillip and Lysanias - all the noise of their religious-political commercials filling the squares and temple steps - makes sense that John would be in the wilderness, listening to what God had to say. 

As a friend of mine once said, when coming out of the bush of Canada, you may not find out who you are, but you will definitely find out who you aren’t. The bush of Canada and the wilderness of the Middle East are not that far apart. John the Baptist may not have fully appreciated who he was, but he surely understood who he wasn’t.

It was a Robert Mitschke who made an observation that did a fair bit of steering in this message. He said, “The wilderness suggests to me a sense of emptiness. Perhaps the lesson is including the idea of emptying ourselves so as to be filled - drop your preconceptions; God is so much more than we can ever imagine; drop self and self-righteousness. I keep coming back to Paul listing all the things he is (a Jew of the tribe of Benjamin, a pharisee) and how they kept him from knowing Christ.” Mr. Mitschke also suggested that “Perhaps we might think of Sunday morning worship as the wilderness, a time to shut off the noise of the world and listen to the word of God.” The question is, how do we do that - in actuality?

It was Scott Hoezee of Calvine Theological Seminary who brought out the subject of Roman roads in our scripture passage. I don’t know about anyone else, but I generally don’t think much about the roads back then, or hi-ways, except that maybe they were dusty two tracks, for the most part. 

Mr. Hoezee noted that Rome built its roads and highways and bridges so that at the time, one could get around the ancient world better than at any point in recorded human history. Apparently, they were spectacular, especially after Caesar’s wife started an “Highway Beautification” initiative. The roads were grand, the travel was easy, the trade routes were prosperous. This description is especially pertinent as much of the area in and around Jerusalem and Jericho was desert and rocky; a difficult, stony, and very rough area. 

John the Baptist versus Tiberius Caesar, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas and Caiaphas. Talk about an underdog as opposed to the top dogs. The slick versus the rough-edged. The least likely in that bunch was the one who brought the most valued message of less is more, less is more, less is more in contrast to the one with the most wins. From Luke’s passage, we can glean the habit to look to the unlikely places and the unlikely people to find hope. Perhaps we might just sit with that thought for a moment - in this wilderness of holiness - that the unlikely places and people are the most likely spaces and ambassadors for hope. (pause)

It is so human to look for hope in the wrong places: Washington, Wall Street, Hollywood, amazing preachers. Even in this holy season of Advent, it is easy to be distracted by the manger scene that has been imbued with so much glitter that in truth we forget sometimes that Jesus’ birth also took place out in the middle of nowhere at a time when everyone else in the Empire was paying far more attention to the movers and shakers elsewhere than to anything happening out in a cave or poor house somewhere. Luke reminds us to refocus and to tap into what C.S. Lewis called “the deep magic of the universe.” 

It’s easy, in our weariness, the callousness that at times appear to be forced on us, to be lack-luster in our anticipation of the coming Christ. But it is worth the effort to reclaim the anticipation and surprise - the excitement and wonder of a Child’s Christmas, because those are some of the very places we find hope. 

Admittedly, we know what is coming. So often, we feel no anticipation about the coming of Christ; Christmas for some people is just another holiday, that same old time of year where we fight our way through stores, unpack our ornaments, and eat too much.

So we must work at it if we wish to reclaim the excitement of Advent. Paradoxically, one must prepare to be surprised. Pause for a moment and consider the hope, anticipation, and surprise of that first Christmas.

A big gift is indeed on its way to you–the biggest and best in all human history. The gift of Christ at Christmas has come, and will come again. So go ahead, take a pause, and check your thinking about the coming weeks. Anticipate the gift. Prepare for it. Don’t let it get buried underneath the packages and tree trimmings. Don’t walk past the eternal, oblivious in your worries of the temporal. Open your eyes. Watch for the signs. Bare and prepare your heart as we pray.

God of Wonder and Delight, thank you for sending the ultimate gift of hope - that of your son. Enable us to sort through the clutter of our lives, shoveling out the distractions with prayer. Help us to clear the way, making way for us to listen and practice the anticipation and joys of celebrating your son’s entrance into this world. Help us to wait for the Coming One, who speaks a comforting silence and blesses the emptiness with hope. In such a space, may we develop a yen for the least likely, that will ultimately become passion for the greatest and most certain: you. All your people pray in your holy name, Amen. 

First Congregational Church
December 2, 2018
First Sunday in Advent, Communion Sunday
Luke 21:25-36 
“The Promise of Paradox”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

One of the illustrations I read this week commented on a photo from Life magazine, back when John Kennedy was president. It was a picture of his children, John Jr. and Caroline, playing with their toys on the floor of the Oval Office. Apparently the photo captured the hearts of Americans because for the first time, the people were most vividly reminded of the multiple natures of Kennedy: as president and as father, and by extension, husband.

He held ultimate political power in the Free World, but playing at his feet were two little kids who called him Daddy. I’m pretty sure I’d have had barbarian Viking sorts of children, so mine wouldn’t have been allowed to play there. But his kids were because he was their father.

The season of Advent presents us with paradoxes of all sorts. We prepare for the birth of a baby that has already been born 2,000 years ago. We often start Advent with the passage about John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin preaching from the book of Isaiah about preparing a way in the desert, rather than with Jesus’ actual birth. Looking out into the Advent and Christmas season and we come to the crazy idea of a baby threatening a king to the point that it caused the king to order the deaths of children that might live into that potential. And then we have this morning’s gospel passage.

About a month ago, the lectionary covered Mark’s version of a poor woman making a meager offering in the temple. Luke 21 begins with his shorter version of that account, and then he launches into 32 verses of what would make for a sci fi movie, our passage being part of those 32. 

Luke 21:25-36 
25 “There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. 26 People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. 27 At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. 28 When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
29 He told them this parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. 30 When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. 31 Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near.
32 “Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. 33 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
34 “Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap. 35 For it will come on all those who live on the face of the whole earth. 36 Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man.”

Thank you, Chris. Gosh. Don’t you all just love a warm and fuzzy advent scripture? Another passage could have been chosen for this morning, but sometimes the easy way isn’t the good way. So here we are, and there is almost always something good to be found, if we look for it. 

Take away the first sentence of the passage, and one might be apt to think that Luke was writing about today or yesterday or tomorrow: nations in anguish (Nigeria, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Haiti, Brazil, Afghanistan, North Korea, the United States); perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea (Hurricanes Florence and Michael, Irma and Maria, the Alaskan earthquake two days ago). There have been natural disasters as long as there has been nature, and probably always will be. The earliest disciples were constantly thinking that Jesus would return any minute, but here we are. 

In the middle of this passage, there is that little parable about the fig tree. Maybe when you stand back from it, you get the picture of the circle of life: new birth, full bloom, preparation for sleep and the circle goes on and on in our earthly world. Perhaps it is a reference to the circle of life as it relates to the whole of life on planet earth. There was creation, life and then one day, all will be as it was long before God created anything. And while that may be a small, esoteric thought to people who like thinking such thoughts, it doesn’t do much for us in our day to day lives.

But Jesus also suggested that we ‘be careful, or our hearts will be weighed down’ with all sorts of anxieties of life. So we should be on the watch, praying that we might be able to escape all that is to happen. 

I don’t know that we can escape all that is to happen - or that we should necessarily even want to. In the sentence before, Jesus had just said that it - it being the weighing down of hearts - will come on all who live on the face of the earth. Those two thoughts don’t really make much sense - in the same paragraph - unless you think about them in terms of the intent of our hearts. 

There is an account of a session from the Connecticut House of Representatives two hundred years ago. The house was in session on a bright day in May, and the delegates were able to do their work by natural light. But then something happened that nobody expected. Right in the middle of debate, the day turned to night. Clouds obliterated the sun, and everything turned to darkness. Some legislators thought it was the Second Coming. So a clamor arose. People wanted to adjourn. People wanted to pray. People wanted to prepare for the coming of the Lord.

But the speaker of the House had a different idea. It was said that he was a Christian believer, and he rose to the occasion with logic and faith. “We are all upset by the darkness," he said, “and some of us are afraid. But, the Day of the Lord is either approaching or it is not. If it is not, there is no cause for adjournment. And if the Lord is returning, I, for one, choose to be found doing my duty. “I therefore ask that candles be brought.” And apparently, they went back to their desks and resumed their debate.

As we sit in the midst of this first Sunday in Advent, here in this particular church family, we celebrate our Lord’s Supper today. There’s another paradox - lifting up Christ’s death and resurrection on the day we begin a new church year. 

But it’s also the very reason that we are together as a church family - in our belief of Christ’s death and resurrection and ascension back to God - in what ever way that might look. We could decide to be an art family, and center our gathering around great works of art. Or we could determine to be a charity family, and focus funds on helping others. But we’ve come together around this oddly hopeful, if somewhat gruesome, life of a man that came to us as a gift and blessing of God’s love. 

Christ didn’t come to cause everything make sense, and he didn’t come to make life peachy keen. He came that we might have life - more abundantly - now and in the life to come. So we can sit in the paradox of understanding and seeing only a reflection as in a mirror. We can prepare our hearts for a birth as we celebrate death and resurrection and ascension. So let do just that.
—--
Gracious God, we thank you for all the blessings and life you have bestowed on us, even if we don’t always completely understand your will and ways. Help us to appreciate the both/ands of life, not getting caught up in the either/ors. We may not think of paradoxes as blessings, but we thank you for the fullness that they can bring. Thank you, too, for the vision you have for us as your people, and the call that you extend to us to be your ambassadors of love. For you and all your blessings and love, all your people say, Amen. 

First Congregational Church
November 11, 2018
25th Sunday after Pentecost, Armistice Centennial
Mark 12:38-44
“Mite Vs. Might”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

A few months ago, a request was brought to our Worship Committee, from the Benzie County Historical Museum, asking if we would participate in the centennial celebration of the great Armistice Day, held on November 11, 1918. 

It has been recorded that, “On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918 the guns of Europe fell silent. After four years of bitter fighting, The Great War was finally over. The Armistice was signed at 5am in a railway carriage in the Forest of Compiegne, France on November 11, 1918. Six hours later, at 11am, the war ended.” 

In honor of that day, and as close to the poetic time as we are able, let us take a moment to reflect on that day, that time, the telegraphs, the relief and sorrow of our forefathers and mothers and those who gave all they had to the cause of freedom - not just that day, but in all those times when veterans served us and this world. 
—-
So I was talking to my dad the other day, and as many of you know, I received my genetic propensity for the delight of fishing from him. In fact, the last couple of conversations I’ve had with him, he’s been talking about hoping to get his boat out one more time this year, because he hasn’t been able to catch a single walleye, and it is near killing him.  

The fact that walleye have been allusive to most all Minnesotans has not bee a comfort, and the couple of days with no fish caught on my vacation in July hasn’t softened dad’s blow one little bit.

I am, however, thinking about connecting dad with a former student I’ve mentioned before; Quinten Larsin. Yesterday, Quintin posted a picture of his fishing boat and said, “Some say 16° out it’s too cold fish. Time to put the smack down on the walleyes.” If I could make it work, it just might be a connection made in heaven. 

In regard to our scripture passage for today, it just might be one that’s a little uncomfortable - at least the first half, at least for some. Okay. For me. At least the first part.

It follows the passage from last week, the one when a lawyer of the day asked Jesus which one of God’s laws was the most important. For several weeks, the book of Mark has been giving us passages that center around a desire or knowledge of what or who is great. Last week, Jesus very pointedly said that to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, along with the second: to love our neighbors as ourselves, were the two most vital.

The writer of Mark doesn’t tell us whether today’s passage happened that same day or not, but Jesus is still on a teaching roll. Maybe he was doing a little topical cherry picking with his points as laid out by Mark. Maybe there were so many different teachers and scribes milling around in the temple, that Jesus was grabbing at object lessons as they strolled in front of him.  

Mark 12:38-44  Warning Against the Teachers of the Law
38 As he taught, Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, 39 and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. 40 
They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.”

The Widow’s Offering
41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42 But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.
43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Thank you, Mary Ann. Thank goodness I’ve given up those lengthy robes, if for no other reason that the potential to trip on them!

I think that for many ministers, preachers and pastors, the first part of today’s passage is one that is like a hidden road bomb. There have been and are some big names in our small part of Christendom of these contemporary United States: Henry Ward Beecher, Billy Sunday, Billy Graham, Tony Campolo, Frederick Buechner, Charles Stanley and William Willimon, just to name a few. But then there are these names: Jerry Falwell, Bob Jones, Oral Roberts, Jimmy Swaggert and Jim and Tammy Baker. Anyone who’s been around for most any length of time has heard of some of the contention surrounding this second group of names. 

I’m not making a judgement about any of these individuals, but it is good to take stock of religious leaders every now and again, because we are as tempted by what seems like power and influence as the next guy or gal. Whether it is teaching Sunday School, serving on or chairing a committee, within the church family or in the secular world, all of us have not only the responsibility to pray for those in leadership positions, but most especially those connected to the church. It might not seem like a big thing, prayers for these sorts of people, but your little mite of a prayer is much mightier than you might think. The first part of today’s passage is a reminder to all of us, that others watch us, looking to see if the living out of our personal sermons match our preaching. 

The second part of this morning’s passage is one that is probably right up there in the top ten most well known in the world - within and without Christendom. With just a little imagination, it is such a vivid scene. 

In an area of about 2.5 acres, the Court of the Gentiles was not a place for worship, but a place like a huge flea market; people selling and buying animals for sacrifices and changing money into that which the Romans found acceptable: shekels from the city of Tyre. Gentiles and Jews, men and women could all be in this space, so the sound was probably rather elevated, especially with no particular market rules and everyone trying to make the best deal possible.

And now, with pure speculation on my part, I’m guessing that the collection containers for the temple gifts were a clay or metal vessel of some sort, because when you drop metal in such containers, they make a sound. And more money means more sound and so your contribution would be “noticed,” if not by sight, then surely by sound. How unnoticeable the widow’s offering would have been that day. But Jesus noticed it. 

All we have are Jesus words; no clues about how he said them, or his body language, except that he was sitting, so that meant he was in a teaching mode. For a long time, pastors, preachers and theologians have thought Jesus’ words were those of appreciation and admiration. “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Given all the previous challenges and questions in Mark about greatness, perhaps Jesus’ commentary on the woman’s offering was not one so much of admiration, but one that has more to say about a remorse - that she felt compelled to give away the little tiny bit she had left, even if the legal experts overlooked her gift as too small with which to bother. Maybe Jesus noted the woman’s gift, and the hypocrisy and corruption of the legal experts, with sadness, because you, know, there were no iron-clad guidelines and rules about how much could be asked of anyone back in those days. And apparently, it didn’t matter that the powerful could literally take away a person’s home, for whatever reasons. 

It’s also interesting that Jesus doesn’t explicitly tell us to imitate the widow by giving our every last cent. Okay, you all can breathe again. But he is giving this lesson against the backdrop of his eventual death and crucifixion, the giving of his all. 

Karoline Lewis of Luther Seminary in Saint Paul, MN has this thought. “I think this story tells a truth about God. God sees right through our self-attentive ways, our tendency for self-preservation, our constant leaning toward the lure of all that might build up the self, especially at the expense of those who need our help the most. We are not fooling anybody, especially God, if we think that any acts of philanthropy are truly extensions of the Kingdom of God if we don’t remember where Jesus ended up.”

Maybe there is some other-worldly irony in this day being Veteran’s Day, a commemoration of those who gave not only their might, but the last mite they had - and this passage - of the mite of this woman, played against the cinematic background of Jesus on the cross, saying “It is finished.” 

Maybe the reflection of these passages is one that comes back onto us, as Karoline Lewis also said, “Because the widow’s might is God’s might -- a might known in love and loyalty. In giving and grace. And in dependence and dedication.

David Lose, of Mount Olivet Lutheran Church in Minneapolis joined in this idea of deeper sight. "Because this God cares about this woman and her sacrifice. This God sees her plight and recognizes her affliction.” God has seen the plight of all God’s people, throughout the course of time, and recognizes our afflictions, our sorrows, our joys and all our interactions with the world - each and every one of you. Amid all the vast coins of the ages, God sees our might and our mites and God believes in them enough to use them to make a difference. So let us pray.

Gracious and Attentive God, thank you for seeing each of us as if we were your most beloved, and for honoring those gifts we offer you - in whatever ways we may offer them. Help each of us to stretch where we can - in offering ourselves to this world - most especially when we feel we may have so little to give or feel least like giving. Thank you for all those who have given their all - across the centuries - for those they would never know, but in the noble pursuits of honor and protection. Help those hearts that may be grieving or broken to heal, that we all might be the best you see of us and in us. For the blessing of using our might and our mite, all your people say, Amen.

​First Congregational Church
November 4, 2018
All Saints Sunday
Mark 12:28-34
“The Kingdom of God Is”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching


It has been said that Maria Fedorovna, Empress of Russia and wife of Tsar Alexander III, was known for her charitable works. In fact, she once saved a condemned man from exile in Siberia by changing a single comma in the warrant signed by her husband. Instead of reading: "Pardon impossible, to be sent to Siberia," she changed the document to read: "Pardon, impossible to be sent to Siberia." That man’s little kingdom was much different than what it might have been in Siberia.

A father was reading Bible stories to his young son. He read, "The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city, but his wife looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt.” His son asked, "What happened to the flea?” (…take his wife and flee out of the city…) The young son’s kingdom is attentive. 

I read of a Sunday School teacher describing the time when Lot's wife looked back at Sodom and turned into a pillar of salt, when Bobby interrupted. "My mommy looked back once while she was driving," he announced, "and she turned into a telephone pole.” Bobby’s kingdom is sweetly graphic and real. 

This morning’s scripture passage talks about the Kingdom of God, and it follows a number of passages, over several chapters, where a person goes to Jesus and asks him a pointed question about being “great.” This morning’s question comes from a scribe — a teacher of the law - one who had to have at least a working knowledge of the law. 

Mark 12:28-34 The Greatest Commandment
28 One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”
29 “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. 30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”
32 “Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. 33 To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”
34 When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.

Thank you, Marti. Garrison Keillor probably wouldn’t have described this past week as a quiet one in Lake Wobegone. Might not necessarily anticipate a quiet one in the week to come, either. National dis-ease, thousands of deaths of all kinds, and yet, we have taken time aside from it all, to worship God and honor the gift of the circle of life. Keeping all those things in mind, and holding the morning’s passage in heart, I was a little curious what God would have to say this week. I am still waiting….

Scott Simon was interviewing former Poet Laureate, Natasha Trethewey, on her new collection of poems called Monument. In talking about the general topic of poetry, and its role today, Natasha said, “Poetry asks, it demands of us in many ways, that we slow down. That we engage with language that isn't soundbites and uncivil, language that allows us to see ourselves in the intimate experience of others.”

Even though poetry isn’t really my thing, I got a little excited because I’d stuck away a couple of things earlier in the week, from my daily poem sender-outer, Steven Garnaas-Holmes. Mr. Garnaas-Holmes has a way of using words and ordering them in arrangements that are so much better than what I could do - I think. And isn’t that part of what we celebrate on this particular day; the special gifts that each of us are given - some gifts that are yet to be discovered and some gifts remembered?

Long about Tuesday or so, Mr. Garnaas-Holmes wrote this - which I warn - has the potential to unsettle - unless you listen all the way to the end.

Sitting with Jewish neighbors 
at their temple in shock and fear
after a synagogue shooting,
feeling their heartbreak and vulnerability, 
I confess: for a moment I felt safe.
I am, after all, not one of them. 

I will never be shot for being black,
never be murdered for being Jewish or gay.
I am a white, male, well-educated, 
middle class, able-bodied Christian.
I'm not the one they'll kill for being myself.
I'm glad that danger is not mine.

That, I confess, is my violence. 
When I am glad of my safety,
when I hide behind my privilege
and separate myself from them,
when I think “them” and not “us,”
pretend I am not them
to feel safe—that itself is the violence.

We are one.
Our wholeness includes each other.
I do violence to my own being
when I separate myself,
when I welcome the safety of my privilege
and sever those I think are not part of me.

I am not free until all of us are free.
My only safety is to risk 
for the sake of the safety of all.
My only way to be whole
is to be broken with the broken-hearted.
My only salvation is not to be safe.

Today we sit with some of those who are broken-hearted. I think that is part of how we do what Jesus says, about loving neighbors as ourselves. There are no medals or trophies or even kudos for sitting with those who are broken, or broken-hearted, mourning, and even weary. But it is part of how we stay alive - how we “be” alive - when we deal with the hard places and times of life, rather than running from those times and places. 

It’s been said before and I’m sure it will be said again, that we find our faith in the hard places. The redeeming part of sitting with those who grieve, or going through grief ourselves is that when we come out the other side of that valley, when we’ve allowed our hearts to heal well, joy is fuller, richer and deeper. 

Loving our neighbors as ourselves brings dignity and honor and respect, words that came from the Benzie Area Christian Neighbor’s Communique (newsletter) this week. Part of the article spoke about the trust that is needed that neighbors will be treated with dignity and respect - and the trust that is developed with other groups that resources will be used well. Within the Kingdom of God, the importance of trust and dignity and respect are sometimes overlooked. As God treats each of us in such manner, it only makes sense to pass such gifts on to those around us - regardless of status, financial portfolio or even age. 

Simply celebrating the passing on of those who have gone before us is not fully living in the Kingdom of God, because there are those who have just entered this realm, and so we celebrate sorrow and joy today. Out of that loop of sorrow and joy, hope is spun, and while hope can be a dangerous thing, it can also be one of great comfort and promise.

For those of you unable to be here this past Wednesday, the kingdom of God was shining all over the place, first and fore mostly in the young people of the day. From little kids dressed as kittens offering their most innocent and sweet, high-pitched mews, to middle school aged students hurrying into the warmth of the church - stopping their tracks and inviting older people to enter before them, the kingdom of God is all around us, if we just look for it. 

This year I was finally able to put together the time and box that became a costume I’ve been wanting to do since my college days - that of a die - a natural play on my name, but a simple hand-painted, get-up. I can’t tell you how many kids came around the corner of the sidewalk, saw my costume, pointed at it and with joy in their voices, said “A dice!” Sad to say, I had to remind myself that they were inviting me to play with them, and once I caught on, I would respond with “A pirate,” or “A ghost!” 

The kingdom of God is just waiting for us to realize it and/or enter into it, once we put down the stuff we think is so important that is actually blocking our interchanges with the delight of this world. I am well aware that the woes of the world these days can drag on our hearts like an anchor in a weed-patch on a lake in July. Regardless of political affiliations, our season of mourning or celebrating, our first job is to love the Lord our God with all our heart and mind and soul and strength. Taking the moments we need to remind ourselves of God's goodness and grace and joy are vital to the nourishment of our souls - now and for the long haul.

For those of you who don’t know the term “thin places,” the ancient Celtic people used it to describe mesmerizing places like the wind-swept isle of Iona (now part of Scotland) or the rocky peaks of Croagh Patrick. Heaven and earth, the Celtic saying goes, are only three feet apart, but in thin places that distance is even shorter.

In this time apart today, perhaps we have entered a thin place, sharing it with each other, seeing the world in ways that are a bit of a stretch, but none-the-less holy. Let us be mindful of those who have gone before us, along with the angels and host of heaven filling every nook and cranny of this place as we pray. 

Heavenly and eternal God, thank you. Thank you for those you have given us - all of them making all of us whole. Thank you for the circle of life that displays itself over and over and over - in the falling leaves and in the innocence of young life. Help each of us to realize more poignantly our place in that circle this week - regardless of where any of us might be. Help us know how we can “sit” with those who are broken and broken-hearted and how we can enter into your kingdom more often and more fully. Help all of us be sensitive to those we may unintentionally hurt - by our words or our silence. 
To love you with all your heart, understanding, strength, and to love our neighbor as ourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” For all the blessings of life, before us, in us and through us, all your people say, Amen.

First Congregational Church
October 21, 2018
22nd Sunday after Pentecost
Mark 10:35-45
“Instead”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

The story is told of two ducks and a frog who lived happily together in a farm pond. The best of friends, the three would amuse themselves and play together in their waterhole. When the hot summer days came, however, the pond began to dry up, and soon it was evident they would have to move. This was no problem for the ducks, who could easily fly to another pond. But the frog was stuck. So it was decided that they would put a stick in the bill of each duck that the frog could hang onto with his mouth as they flew to another pond.

The plan worked well - so well, in fact, that as they were flying along a farmer looked up in admiration and mused, "Well, isn't that a clever idea! I wonder who thought of it?"
The frog said, "I did…"

Ronald Reagan recalled an occasion when he was governor of California and made a speech in Mexico City: "After I had finished speaking, I sat down to rather
unenthusiastic applause, and I was a little embarrassed. The speaker who followed me spoke in Spanish, which I didn't understand and he was being applauded about every paragraph. To hide my embarrassment, I started clapping before everyone else - and longer than anyone else - until our ambassador leaned over and said, I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's interpreting your speech.’"

Reverend Paul W. Powell, retired Dean of Baylor University (name shortened here) Theological Seminary, once observed: "Pride is so subtle that if we aren't careful we'll be proud of our humility. When this happens our goodness becomes badness. Our virtues become vices. We can easily become like the Sunday School teacher who, having told the story of the Pharisee and the publican, said, “Children, let's bow our heads and thank God we are not like the Pharisee!”

Today’s scripture passage comes to us, once again, from the Gospel of Mark. Last week it was the description of the young rich man wanting eternal life, only to be disappointed by Jesus’ answer that exposed the young man’s honesty of heart. After Jesus mentioned that it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for most of us to give up the one thing we hold most dear, whatever that one thing is, Jesus predicted his death a third time, and then, as they were walking along, toward Jerusalem and the approaching crucifixion, this happened.  

Mark 10:35-45 (NIV) The Request of James and John
35 Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.”
36 “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked.
37 They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”
38 “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” 39 “We can,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “You will drink the cup I drink and be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with, 40 but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared.”
41 When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John. 42 Jesus called them together and said, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. 43 Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. 45 For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Thank you, Kelly. I think that one of the best teaching techniques is that of contrast - especially when you begin with something already familiar to the learner. If you are attempting to help someone understand Congregationalism, it’s helpful to know if they are familiar with Catholicism, because we’re not like that. Or if they have experience with churches that use the same liturgy most every week, because we’re not like that either. If they are familiar with Presbyterianism, we can point out nuances, like their higherarchy of presbyteries and our associations with other Congregational churches within in the National Association of Congregational Christian Churches. These comparisons are not injunctions against those of other practices, it’s just how we’re different. 

Or say that someone wants to learn how to play the piano. So the teacher starts with a little song the student already knows - like Mary Had a Little Lamb or Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Once the student has a mastery of that piece, they can learn to listen for melodies in other great works - or even to master them, like Mozart.  

One of the other easy teaching techniques is employing opposites. The opposite of fast is: slow. The opposite of high is: low. The opposite of many is: few. One of the many opposites of great is: servant or slave - as Jesus explained. 

Golf immortal Arnold Palmer recalls a game when he was at the final hole of the 1961 Masters tournament, and in his own words, he said, “I had a one-stroke lead and had just hit a very satisfying tee shot. I felt I was in pretty good shape. As I approached my ball, I saw an old friend standing at the edge of the gallery. He motioned me over, stuck out his hand and said, Congratulations." I took his hand and shook it, but as soon as I did, I knew I had lost my focus. On my next two shots, I hit the ball into a sand trap, then put it over the edge of the green. I missed a putt and lost the Masters.” He ended his accounting with these words. “You don't forget a mistake like that; you just learn from it and become determined that you will never do that again. I haven't in the 30 years since.”

I wonder how many of us “get” that illustration, because we’ve so been there. ‘Man, I’ve been so great with my driving, I haven’t had a ticket in over 30 years.’ (Refocus to the red and blue flashing lights in the rearview mirror.) “I’m so glad I haven’t had to eat any crow for the last many months, because I’ve been so good with wanting not to hurt those I love. (Envision scene in bed, covers pulled up, eye balls wide awake, replaying that uncomfortable conversation earlier that evening, wondering if you have to make an apology.) 

Or there’s the eternal, “I feel really good about that sermon.” but no one says boo about it. Then there’s that other lesson we sometimes need to learn - whether the sermon was really just that bad, or it had touched people in ways that were not my responsibility, but God’s, and so don’t get yourself all bunched up, thinking you are so much better than you really are. 

In case you were wondering, yes, the disciples had a very similar conversation just two chapters before the one for this morning. The Zebedee boys were in the popular group, Jesus’ inner circle, which also included Peter. Besides the brothers being known as the Sons of Thunder, they alone were present for the healing of Jairus’ daughter and for the Transfiguration when Jesus was glorified. If they were living today, they’d have had their own little texting group. More than anyone, they had reason to call “Shotgun” on the eternal stagecoach.

Jesus doesn’t call them derogatory names, shaming their presumptions, but essentially asked them if they could handle the cross. All these years, and yesterday was the first day that the idea came together in this small mind - of James and John asking for seats, overlapping the thieves who hung on Jesus’ right and left on the crosses. 

I know there are many that are going to find this a little difficult to grasp, but sometimes I can get really worked up about injustices I perceive to be in the world. Yes, sometimes I can get a little crazy when I realize that not everyone knows what I know - regardless of how good or not good that information might be. And yes, sometimes, I hear something on the tv or I read something that I probably shouldn’t have spent much time on, and realize that I’ve used my soapbox to get onto my high horse - but hopefully not too often aloud. And I find myself wondering “what is wrong with people?” If everyone could be like me, we’d all be fine. 

Thursday evening I attended a show at the Opera House, and was hilariously reminded, over and over, that it is “we” - not them, not they, we. We all do really great things and we all do really dumb stuff. We all get tired and we all think of ourselves as being better - than is probably healthy. We are the body of Christ - some better suited to be hands and some better suited to be feet and some better suited to be the skin that keeps us all connected. Much as we’d like to be sitting on either side of Jesus, he reminds all of us that it’s not about chairs or seating arrangements, but about serving. We are all called to be Christ’s servants.

I discovered a new nuance this week, that the word for servant (diakonos) originally meant to “heap dust because a good servant moved so fast that dust flew around him.” Some time after that, it was used for the boys who carried the towels in the bath houses, and so the word became associated with children. In the religious sense, the word “servant” took on the idea of one who ministered or rendered a service to another. The word “slave” (doulos), however, was one who did not have the right to refuse. The slave’s entire life was at the disposal of the master. So some might interpret this morning’s passage to be a requirement for us to be spinners for Jesus. (Just kidding.)

Whether it’s being crazy busy with the family and kids, gearing up or gearing down to or from a trip that is planned, having no energy or inspiration to be servants or slaves for Jesus, it’s perhaps easy to either blow off this reminder of who we are in Christ, or to become overwhelmed into emotions we just can’t add to our plate. But remember, it’s not all about seating in eternity. 

Sometimes it’s serving someone who serves this church family; with a thank you or note of appreciation. Just a couple of sentences and the high horse is pastured and another individual has been raised up a little bit. Sometimes it about sitting next to the new person after church, because it’s so easy to sit with those we already know.  

This servanthood mentality, this counter-cultural kingdom of God where the way up is the kneeling down of heart is not even a list of things to do, but a retraining or exercising of attitude. When we hear the line, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the greatest of us all, we should see Christ’s face, and realize it to be a reflection of our efforts, regardless of how great or small, large or least those efforts might be. To pull that off, we best get first to praying. 

Gracious, loving God, thank you for reminding us, again and again, what you desire for us. Remind us often in the coming week, that it is about we, not about them, or they, but about we - your people - all your people - doing our parts to bring your kingdom to life in this world. Give us strength and courage to do that which is beyond us, patience and understanding to that which seems least or insignificant. Thank you for those moments in our lives when we knew we were in that right place, doing what you needed of us for that moment in time. Help us to realize that we have so many of those opportunities around us at any given moment in time. And then help us to harvest those moments, that we might realize and embrace how good it is to be your people. For all the lessons and all the blessings and all those that are really “we,” all your people say, Amen. 

First Congregational Church
October 14, 2018
21st Sunday after Pentecost
Mark 10:17-31 & Hebrews 4:12-16
“The Real Struggle” 
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

I once saw a quote attributed to Anthony Burgess, that said, “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Snore, and you sleep alone.” I saw a picture of someone taking a picture of a sign attributed to the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, J. Murrey Adkins Library that said, “Please do not stand, sit, climb or Sharpie on sleeping students.” At the bottom of that sign, it said, A new way to think. Atkins Library. Kind of a weird saying, but there you have it. And of all the gazillions of those signs and quotes, I think one of the absolute best is the one that said, “Without Sleep, we become tall two year olds.”

Actually, it was a little sign by Brooke Hampton that resonated with what I’ve been hearing from a large number of folks I’ve encountered this week. It said, “No, we don’t need more sleep. It’s our souls that are tired, not our bodies. We need nature. We need magic. We need adventure. We need freedom. We need truth. We need stillness. We don’t need more sleep, we need to wake up and live.”

I don’t know about anyone else, but part of me retaliates against that saying, like a 7th grader who doesn’t want to do their homework. “Great. More to do.” Siri, put relaxing on the to-do list. But the other part of me gets that it’s not about sleep, but about being in alignment with life - which of course, is alignment with God. 

Mark 10:17-31, The Rich and the Kingdom of God
17 As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
18 “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. 19 You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honor your father and mother.’”
20 “Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
21 Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
22 At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.
23 Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!”
24 The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! 25 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
26 The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”
27 Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
28 Then Peter spoke up, “We have left everything to follow you!”
29 “Truly I tell you,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel 30 will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. 31 But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”

Hebrews 4:12-16 
12 For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. 13 Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight.  Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.

Jesus the Great High Priest
14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. 16 Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Thank you, Hugh and Bob. I had to chuckle after reading the first two commentaries on this morning’s passage from Mark. Sarah Hinlicky Wilson, from workingpreacher.org said “The rich young man didn’t actually keep the law, so that business about giving up his possessions was just a way of calling his bluff. Nobody can actually keep the law, hence nobody can give up everything, either; it’s just a rhetorical device to call our bluff, and once we grasp that, we’re off the hook.”

Leonard Vander Zee from calvinseminary.edu said “Jesus says “Give it all away, everything.” Contemporary Jewish belief had taught them that riches were a sign of God’s blessing, so Jesus was asking the young man to let go of God’s blessing. 

Who would be crazy enough to do that - especially understanding the deep meaning of blessings after a brief sojourn through and review of the book of “Rethinking Forgiveness” by Michael O’Shields this past Thursday? (For those who haven’t had an opportunity to check out this book, do. It could well do some healing of heart you didn’t expect.)

The question is, does Jesus demand this of everyone - giving away everything we have? Some commentators make the point that Jesus is talking to this one man. It says Jesus looked at him and loved him and then says exactly what this man needs to hear.”

So it seems that our first passage was either a vague lesson or a poignant statement. When you stand back a little, and look at what was written in this part of Mark, I think you can find room for both interpretations. So that’s why the passage from Hebrews became an important part of today’s readings. Not that the people who pick lectionary passages have such great insight or superhero powers to divine which passages should go together. But sometimes….

Some of you may remember the movie City Slickers, in which Mitch, played by Billy Crystal, is experiencing a sort of mid-life crises as work and marriage are falling apart. Mitch is roped into joining two friends on a cattle drive in the southwest, lead by the their guide, Curly, played by Jack Palance. 

Near the end of the movie, having gone to the edge of death, the old Cowhand Curly said to Mitch: Do you know what the secret of life is? [holds up one finger] This.
Billy Crystal says, Your finger? Jack Palance says, “One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and the rest don't mean squat. Of course, Billy Crystal says, “That’s great but, what is the "one thing?” Jack Palance smiles, “That’s what you’ve got to figure out.”

While the answer to the question of that “one thing” can change from time to time, I think that an answer lies in the last half of the passage from Hebrews. In fact, it may well be the last sentence from our Hebrews passage. Knowing that we have a high priest - Jesus - who is able to understand our every weakness and temptation and burden and did not let those things overtake him, let us approach God and God’s grace for the mercy and grace to help us when we need it. 

I surely seems like there are a lot of folks who are not only tired these days, but tired of being tired. Maybe it’s been politics, maybe it’s been the weather and the atrocities of hurricanes and flooding and fires, maybe it’s been that fall has been so long in coming, and now that it’s definitely here, we are wanting - needing to hibernate from the drawn-out summer. Maybe it’s health issues or relationship issues with family or friends or job. I don’t know how to fix the problems, but I do know that God really does care about the things that bug us, annoy us and even get under our skin. 

Even if we can’t do anything to help the people whose lives have been effected in negative ways this last week, even if we feel like we can’t change the world through our gift of money or donation, even if we can’t seem to help ourselves, we can pray. 

If we don’t know what to pray, we can pray that. If you are too tired to pray, God knows that, and not only cares about your situation, but loves you despite it. When the young, rich man said that he had kept all the commandments, did you catch what happened after that? Jesus looked at him and loved him. 

Despite how we understand or misunderstand, our energy or fatigue, whether we “get” what God desires for us - that one thing, God continually - not just when God feels like it, not based on what we do or don’t do, God looks at us and loves us - looks at you and loves you. 

Even so, maybe God is asking you to let go of some “stuff” that is holding you back. And maybe we may take a little self inventory of how we feel about people that look like they “have it all,” because sometimes that visual is far more incorrect than we realize. 

Let us, in these last moments of our worship together, approach God’s throne of grace with confidence as we pray. 

Holy, Loving God, we are grateful that you see through our faults and warts and all, to our hearts. We are grateful for the abundances you give us, so that we can help those around us - in whatever ways that help may arrive. Thank you for being an approachable God, that we need not fear you or feel that we are not worthy of coming into your presence. Help us, Lord, in the coming week, to look for ways of giving of ourselves, regardless of how we might feel or think. Help each of us to let go of what is keeping us from drawing closer to you, that we might all be rich people in you. For all your love and grace and mercy and blessings, all your people say, Amen.

​First Congregational Church
October 7, 2018
20th Sunday after Pentecost, World Communion Sunday
Mark 10:2-16
“The Arms and Hands of Faith”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

A man went to visit his doctor. "Doc, my arm hurts bad. Can you check it out please?" the man pleads. The doctor rolls up the man's sleeve and suddenly hears the arm talk. "Hello, Doctor," says the arm. "Could you lend me twenty bucks please? I'm desperate!"
"Aha!'' says the doctor. ''I see the problem. Your arm is broke!"

Our scripture passage for his morning is perhaps one of the top five best known. It's most likely one resonated with us children, and it is easily linked to the song, Jesus loves me - imagination-wise. As comforting as the 23rd Psalm, as innocent as the story of Jesus's birth, our passage for this morning is as appropriate for this World Communion Sunday as we can get without the mention of food or beverage.

Mark 10:13-16 The Little Children and Jesus
13 People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. 14 When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 15 Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.

Thank you, Mary. I wish we had the time to go around to each one here to find out what it was that stood out for or to you as you heard the passage. It would be equally interesting to be able to record those insights for future reference, that we could compare and contrast future insights and relevances with those of today. In the interest of time, you are stuck with mine. 

It was the arms and the hands. Jesus laid his hands on the children. He took them into his arms and blessed them with his hands. I wonder how many of those children, most likely the littler ones, reached up their hands at the ends of pudgy baby arms, wanting Jesus to pick them up, for whatever reason inspired them to do so. 

For the newer folks among us, or for those who didn’t know, I have this fascination with hands: the wrinkles, the veins, the knuckles and the directions that they grow, each in their own, individually unique ways. And then there are all the things that our hands have done - from changing diapers to writing checks, holding doors to holding other hands, shooting guns to spreading salves, woodworking to fabric working, cleaning and polishing, digging and feeding - our hands - and the lack of hands - have huge impacts on our lives.

Jesus didn’t just bless with his hands: he healed, he hugged, he upset tables. And through each of the million things he did with his hands, God flowed through them, God to the people in Jesus’ surroundings, through the centuries, to us. 

In yesterday’s reading of a book called, Jesus Calling, there was this image, God’s message to all of us through the hands of the books writer, Sarah Young.  

 “Sometimes I lead you up a high mountain with only My hand to support you. The higher you climb, the more spectacular the view becomes; also, the more keenly you sense your separation from the world with all its problems. This frees you to experience  exuberantly the joyous reality of My Presence. Give yourself fully to these Glory-moments, awash in dazzling Light. I will eventually lead you down the mountain, back into community with others. Let My Light continue shine within you as you walk among people again.”

It can be comforting, imagining yourself crawling up into God’s lap like children into Jesus’ lap - Just as it can be for God wrapping arms around you, like Jesus holding the children. Sometimes, when the path is tough, it’s good to know that God has our hand and will lead us - even with just that “limited” channel of guidance. 

The beauty of this idea about arms and hands on this particular Sunday is that it is not just the vertical ability of our arms and hands, but their horizontal abilities, too. In a few moments, a plate will be passed to you, from arms and hands to your arms and hands. Younger hands, older hands, shaky hands and sturdy hands, calloused hands and smooth hands; the bread and the cup weaving between all of them and us. 

And the obvious point of a World Communion Sunday is that this idea of one-to-one, hand-to-hand love from God to us is not merely about us - but about all 2.5 billion of us: Catholic Christians, Eastern Orthodox, Baptists, Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Reformed, Pentecostalists, and of course, Congregationalists, to mention just a few. The bread and the cup have been or will be shared in the Pakistan and Poland, Brazil and Belarus, Serbia and Spain, Uganda and Uruguay, South Africa and South Dakota. 

The bread and cup we share will look, taste and feel different from group to group, country to country, small country church to mega church. The words of institution, the words that Jesus used on his last night with his disciples will be, are being, have been already uttered this day in more languages than any of us can imagine, sometimes with the aid of a microphone, sometimes in hushed whispers in places where speaking them any louder will land you in jail, if not worse. 

Some of those receiving the body and blood of Christ will be handsome people with lives that look good on the outside, others will be people hard to look at: those at risk, powerless, weak, unsure, those who have been wronged and broken, clinging to any thread of hope that makes sense at that moment. Christ gave this meal, this tradition, this sacrament to the highly intelligent, the mentally challenged and all those between, those who do well, those who fail, the lazy and ambitious, the loving and the unloving, the contented and discontented, the free and the imprisoned.

It matters not whether any of us are married, single or divorced, veterans or non-veterans, our ethnic origins or our status or standing. The sure and the skeptics, the passionate and the indifferent, the wise and the fools are all welcome to this table - this cup and this bread because they have been given to us as a gift, the most personal and precious gift God could give us - part of God’s self, part of the earth, regardless of time and place, only and ever able to be taken and shared involving hands and arms.  

It is offered, to be received, not with great theological or philosophical debate, but simple faith, even if it’s as small as a mustard seed, as a gesture of God reaching to us and us reaching to God as we reach to each other. The elements are holy because God has given them to us, but otherwise, are as common and as fundamental to any life on this planet. Perhaps it is the sharing - in and of itself - at least on this particular day - that adds to this a holy meal. 

As we use the next moments to prepare our hearts for this simple, complex and holy dining experience, let us be reminded of that hand of God, leading each of us to that high mountain of joyous reality of God’s presence, next to you as all those around the world that celebrate with us, reminding all of us of God’s enormously individual love for all God’s children. 

***
Let us pray. Holy Mystery, Protector, Redeemer and Sustainer, we are grateful for the love that you bestow on us, so freely, so lavishly, so purely. We confess that our arms and hands sometimes get tired, sometimes our hearts becoming tired to the point of not even wanting to reach for your hand. In this time today, and even more so in our reflection on it in the coming week, help each of us to recognize your reflection in the eyes of those you send our way. Help us just to look, even when the person behind those eyes may not look like how we think we look, to see the love that comes from you through them. And thank you for your Son, who sees not only our eyes, but our hearts, hearts often needing your love and light and feeding. For your forgiveness, your love and many, many blessings, all your people say, Amen.  

​First Congregational Church
September 30, 2018
19th Sunday after Pentecost
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching



"For the Beauty of the Earth”,  S 38
One has only to look out the window these days, and just by the look of the leaves and the sky, and even the wind, you can tell it’s fall. One has only to look and/or listen, and you can know that it’s a very complicated world these days, and that can be wearying to the soul and heart. So this morning’s worship service has been designed as a bit of a soul-retreat, to take a step back, or a deep breath, to recharge the batteries. 

One of the ways to reset broken internal clocks - what is otherwise known as the body’s circadian rhythm - is to go camping. Since nature is presenting such a show in the coming weeks, it seemed logical that we can reset our spiritual clocks - in a little camping trip with singing and worship. And since it’s the fifth Sunday of the month, it seemed the right time. 

Our first hymn this morning paints a picture of gratitude embodied in different aspects of God’s creation. Originally written with eight verses, the verses in our spiral book picture gratitude in the earth - verses 1 and 2 - human love - verse 3 - and the church - in the original, “thy Bride” in verse 4. 

The story goes that Folliot Sandford Pierpoint, of the later 19th and earlier 20th  centuries, is said to have been inspired by the view of his native city of Bath on a spring day in the writing of “For the Beauty of the Earth” at the ripe old age of 29. History tells us he was a teacher of classics at Somersetshire College, the writer of seven books of poetry, contributed hymns to various publications and published at least two song books.

If this hymn has a familiar feel beyond learning it as a kid, it may because it is also the tune for the Christmas carol, ”As with Gladness Men of Old.”  While we would be inclined to classify “For the Beauty of the Earth” as a hymn of thanksgiving or praise, Pierpoint wrote it originally as a Eucharistic or communion hymn. 

Perhaps the best aspect of this hymn, for this morning, is that it reminds us that all that we are, all that we have, all that there is, is a gift from the One made us, also, making it the perfect way to open our worship with grateful praise. Let us stand and sing number 38 in the spiral books. 
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"Earth and All Stars”,   S 34
The writer of our next hymn, “Earth and All Stars,” was one busy person. Dr. Herbert F. Brokering served Lutheran pastorates, was a pilgrimage leader, popular speaker, hymn writer, playwright, poet, and author with over 40 books. He collaborated with Dave Brubeck, taught Navy and Air Force chaplains and received honorary doctorates from four Lutheran higher-education institutions.

Apparently there are basically two groups of opinions regarding this hymn: those that like it and those that don’t. Those that don’t may not appreciate his lack of rhyme, his use of the word “loud” and it’s complementary phrase, such as loud boiling test tubes or loud sounding wisdom.

But Dr. Brokering grew up in rural German-Lutheran parsonages in southeast Nebraska where there is an abundance of sky and land. And he wrote this text for the ninetieth anniversary of St. Olaf College, Northfield, Minnesota, so it is easier to appreciate the references to the academic world. And what institution of higher education isn’t in a continual building mode, so even the references to limestone and beams make a little more sense when understanding their context. 

And then there’s David Johnson, the writer of the music for this hymn. He was no schmo, either. He was an organist, composer, educator, choral clinician, lecturer, organ instructor and music department chair at St. Olaf. Johnson served in the U.S. Army Signal Corps/Air Corps in India, Burma, and China, receiving a Meritorious Service Award and campaign ribbons. His career includes the writing of over 300 compositions, mainly for church use. 
In all the verses, there is reference to the first verse of Psalm 91, “Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.”

Then there is the reference to Psalm 98
Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him. 2  The Lord has made his salvation known and revealed his righteousness to the nations. 3  He has remembered his love and his faithfulness to Israel; all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God. 4 Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music; 5 make music to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing, 6 with trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn—shout for joy before the Lord, the King. 7 Let the sea resound, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it. 8 Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy; 9 let them sing before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples with equity.

And we can’t forget Psalm 150. 
1 Praise the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens. 2  Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. 3 Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, 4 praise him with timbrel and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe, 5 praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals. 6 Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.
You may remain seated as we sing number 34 in the spiral books. 
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"As the Sun Doth Daily Rise”,   S 12
Our next hymn is shrouded in mystery. It is not really known who actually wrote the words or composed the melody, although it was originally discovered in Latin. In the sparse information available about “As the Sun Doth Daily Rise,” apparently a person by the name of J. Masters translated the hymn and The Rt. Hon. Horatio Nelson, a British politician and the 3rd Earl Nelson - Earl being a title - adapted the hymn - basically into what we have before us on page 12 of the spiral books. Yes, this Horatio Nelson is related to the great Horatio Nelson of sea-faring fame. 

There is also a potential connection of this hymn to the English King, Alfred the Great, who came to rule in 871. Edwin McKean Long wrote a book called “Illustrated History of Hymns and Their Authors,” in which Long credits the King with the creation of the lyrics. 

The story goes that “after many conflicts with the Danes, who invaded his land, the King was at last compelled for a time to abandon his throne, and conceal himself in disguise in a cottage of one of his herdsmen. While performing menial service in his hiding place, his hostess gave him a severe reprimand for permitting some oatmeal cakes to be burned, which, while baking, she had directed him to watch; sayin, “No wonder thou art a poor houseless vagrant with such neglect of business. I shall set by all the burnt cakes for thy potion of the week’s bread, and thou shalt have no other till they are all eaten.” Dependent thus on others for his daily bread, although a King, he could in after years feel the import of his words addressed to the King of Kings in the second verse of his hymn, - Day by day provide us food, For from thee comes all things good; Strength unto our souls afford From thy living Bread, O Lord. 

In defense of Alfred’s country, he was compelled to fight no less than fifty six battles by sea or land, in which he exposed himself to innumerable dangers, and no doubt often uttered the prayer contained in the third verse. 

Not being any sort of slacker, Alfred translated the Psalms into English, and constantly carried a copy, as Mr. Long cited, in his bosom, so the fourth verse is said to be in the language of his heart. 

All that being said, The Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology states that “‘There is no proof that any part of the Latin text is by King Alfred, neither have we found the Latin text elsewhere.’” So there you have it - the non-story behind the story of our next hymn, which is still a good hymn, especially when you wake up in the morning and the sun is shining and this hymn or “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” from Oklahoma rolls into your head. You may remain seated as we sing number 12 in the spiral books. 
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“Sing to the Lord of Harvest”,  S 140
“Sing to the Lord of Harvest” is maybe one of the top six Thanksgiving hymns of all time - at least in our modern day. It was written by John Samuel Bewley Monsell, an Irish Anglican clergyman and poet. Although he received an academic degree in law, he was ordained as a priest two years later. 

During his career, Monsell was responsible for the building or rebuilding of three of his churches: one in northern Ireland and two in southern England. While inspecting the rebuilding of one of the English churches, Rev. Monsell fell from a boulder, and subsequently died in 1875 from an infected wound at the age of 64. Before that happened, however, he managed to write 11 books of poetry and compose 300 hymns, many that celebrate the seasons of the church year. 

The tune for our next hymn was written by a gentleman who served his city in Germany as town clerk, cantor and organist in the Lutheran church, was a notary public, mayor, and secretary to the Elector of Saxony. Somehow, Johann Steurlein found time to rhyme both the Old and New Testaments in German.

It is said that the tune was originally a love song and when I looked it up, it is rather close to that which we will sing shortly, except a lot fancier. A comment from the Psalter Hymnal Handbook suggests that the tune can be sung in harmony by agile voices, but congregations may prefer to sing in unison. At first I thought that the microphone had been dropped - a modern way of stating a challenge. But when I listened to the German “love song” online, well let’s just say that we’ll sing it as it appears in our spiral book. 

Lest anyone think that the song sounds less relevant to this morning’s service than the title suggests, I give you the scriptural reference, from Psalm 65:9-13.
9 You care for the land and water it; you enrich it abundantly. The streams of God are filled with water to provide the people with grain, for so you have ordained it. 10 You drench its furrows and level its ridges; you soften it with showers and bless its crops. 11 You crown the year with your bounty, and your carts overflow with abundance. 12 The grasslands of the wilderness overflow; the hills are clothed with gladness. 13 The meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are mantled with grain; they shout for joy and sing.

Let us stand and sing “Sing to the Lord of Harvest”, number 140.
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“Let All Things Now Living”,    S 92

The composer of “Let All Things Now Living” was one of the pioneers of women composers in the early 20th century. Beginning piano lessons at an early age, composing at 15, winning not only the Billings Prize for Composition at Wellesley College, but a position at Wellesley as piano and theory instructor at the grand age of 22, Katherine Davis eventually went to Paris to study briefly with iconic music pedagogue Nadia Boulanger, instructor to such icons as Aaron Copeland, Philip Glass, Daniel Pinkham, and Virgil Thomson. For those of you who don’t recognize those names, it was a really big deal that Katherine got to study with Ms. Boulanger. 

One other tidbit about her life; Ms. Davis was at one time a Congregationalist. 

Of her over 800 music compositions, Katherine’s mega hit came with her piece, "The Little Drummer Boy,” although it took the Trapp Family Singers of Sound of Music fame to bring it to public awareness. And to give everyone their due, it didn’t hurt the popularity of “The Little Drummer Boy” - or Katherine Davis - when Bing Crosby and David Bowie sang it as a duet.

Back to the hymn at hand, like the great Martin Luther, who used familiar folk songs in creating new hymns, Ms. Davis used the familiar Welsh folk song “The Ash Grove” when she put her verses to music. 

A scriptural reference for this hymn comes from a seemingly odd book, but it surely fits. From the book of Job: (Job 26:7-10) 
7 He spreads out the northern skies over empty space; he suspends the earth over nothing. 8 He wraps up the waters in his clouds, yet the clouds do not burst under their weight. 9 He covers the face of the full moon, spreading his clouds over it. 10 He marks out the horizon on the face of the waters for a boundary between light and darkness.

Let us join our praise to that of the entire universe as we sing number 92 in the spiral books. 
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“My Shepherd Will Supply My Need"                 S 112
The next composer is no stranger to this congregation - at least to my recollection of memorable and impressive worship services. That’s mostly because Isaac Watts is to Congregationalism what Martin Luther is to Lutheranism and the Wesleys are to Methodism. 

Perhaps it is the non-conformist part of our religious heritage that makes it a good thing - in a strange way - but before Isaac was even born, his father was a “respected Nonconformist” schoolmaster.

Isaac Watts’ education began with Latin at the age of 4, writing “respectable” verses at the age of 7, and by age 16, he was off to attend a Nonconformist Academy. He preached his first sermon at the age of 20 and by the time he was 28, he was an ordained pastor, eventually preaching to the likes of Cromwell's granddaughter, Lady Haversham and other distinguished Independents. 

There is no disputing the basis for the hymn we will sing next from the spiral books. And there is no disputing the power of Psalm 23. Even people who looked dis-engaged with the world, will move their lips when this Psalm is read. Despite how the sentiments are arranged, the meaning of God’s guidance, presence and hope is as strong today as it was all those centuries and centuries ago, when it was first composed at the hand of the great King David. 

One has merely to take a drive around the county to find green pastures in the summer time, quiet waters in the early mornings, hills and valleys and trails and fauna all over the place. And like a good walking stick, God’s rod of promises are there for leaning, just like the staff of community comforts us. Whether we sing or say or read or hear the words, just taking a look around us, listening to that that surrounds us, whether outside or within the walls of this church home, we get clues and nudges and lessons on the magnitude of blessing that is given freely, without strings or requirements, other than to take care of what we have. 

I invite all of you to grab a pew bible and turn to page 862, that we can all speak the words of truth aloud and together before we sing them. 

Psalm 23
1 The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, 3 he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Now let us turn to number 112 in the spiral books, that we may sing the words down into our souls and DNA. 
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“Bringing In the Sheaves”,    S 20

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve always wondered about our final hymn this morning - in terms of where its inspiration came. And low and behold, I discovered it was Psalm 126, verse 6: Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them. 

Psalm 126 is thought to be penned by the scribe or priest Ezra or by some of the prophets. It was likely written as a song to be sung by worshippers as they ascended the road to Jerusalem to attend the three pilgrim festivals or by priests as they approached the altar in the temple. Interesting words for such activities: Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.

Despite the serious nature behind the scripture reference, “Bringing In the Sheaves” has been used a lot in the world of film. Several movies, including Texas ChainSaw Massacre used it in some part of the story, they were singing this hymn every time the Ingalls family went to church on Little House on the Prairie, and Granny Clampett used to sing it in the Beverly Hillbillies! 

Maybe the spirit of those instances comes from the fact that the writer of the hymn, Knowles Shaw, was a popular fiddler at dances in his teen years. He later became known as the singing evangelist, in part because of a fine singing voice, in  another part because of being a good preacher - an even better preacher than the great Dwight L. Moody - and in third part because he would effectively intersperse his sermons with his own singing. It is also said that he baptized over 11,000 people, but I’m guessing he had help on that account.  

The real greatness of this hymn is note really due to any of the above, but because of it’s scriptural and practical message. Most of us don’t have so much experience with the sowing of seeds in our own lives, but back in the day, when the weather was right, farmers would sow and reap in the dark early and late hours as well as in the daylight hours, because so much depended on that crop. There was an urgency in dealing with that crop, because the time for planting and harvesting was not unlimited. 

And then there is the picture of the sowing of seed that Jesus described - seeds that fell onto the hard path, rocky ground, and thorny places - and the seed that fell on good ground - yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. Later on, Jesus talked about the harvest being ready and the workers being few. 

All these images come after the opening line: “Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness.” What a beautiful way to start a day, because isn’t that really where grace and love start? With a kind word. A kind action. An act of forgiveness that opens the door to share the good news of Jesus. And if it comes in the morning - at the start of the day - talk about potential to change the world exponentially. So let us stand and sing our last hymn today, number 20 in the spiral books, knowing that in the end, all will be well.