First Congregational Church
October 13, 2019
18th Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 17:11-19
“And as they went,”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

Luke 17:11-19
Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”
When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.
One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.
17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

When I was a little girl, when the boys were sitting at the feet of the rabbis, I tried to sit as near as I could, for those occasional moments when the noise lessened, when I could hear the rabbi’s teaching. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I so wanted to learn. I still want to learn. 

It was while I was secretly learning about the history of my people that I learned about a commander of an army, a man by the name of Naaman. It is said that he was a great soldier, valiant and brave, but he had leprosy. 

Where we live, there are many skin conditions that fall under the name of leprosy. Even mold and mildew can be called leprosy. Those with this affliction are usually secluded from the rest of the population, just in case their disease is contagious. To the afflicted and unaffected alike, it is a terrifying disease.

Probably every rabbi teaches the story about Naaman, the man who had stolen a young Hebrew girl to become his wife’s slave, a girl who suggested that Naaman go to the prophet in our country of Samaria for healing. Somehow the king got the letter and thought that he, himself, was the prophet. How foolish we humans can be sometimes, thinking that we are so much more than we are, because the prophet wasn’t the king, but Elisha. 

The story about Naaman is important, because Elisha told him to go to the filthy, smelly, foul Jordan River and wash himself seven times in it, and he would be restored. Who, in their right mind, would do that? Everyone knows that keeping wounds clean is the way to treat them. Naturally, Naaman tried to get out of such a “cure,” suggesting that the clean and clear waters north of the Jordan, in Damascus, would be more logical for healing. 

Isn’t it true, that sometimes our lives would be so much simpler if we just did as God requires of us, rather than trying to wiggle out of what seems strange to us? Naaman learned that lesson, when he dipped himself into those dirty waters. And who can know the mind of God? Perhaps it wasn’t the waters that cleansed Naaman, but the act of doing what he heard the prophet of God tell him. 

I bring up that story, because it has great bearing on the story you’ve just heard, about the ten lepers. My brother was one of them; the one who went back to give thanks. This holy book doesn’t tell you, but between you and me, my brother’s name is Dathan. Dathan and I have always been close, and what happened to him that day has had an impact on our lives ever since. 

As Samaritans, we’ve always worshiped the same God as the Hebrew people, using the same first five books of your Bible, even though our people disagree about the place where God wanted the holy temple built. Jews said the place was on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, Samaritans say it is Mount Gerizim. This disagreement has been one of the fundamental reasons that the Hebrew people look down on us Samaritans. 

Regardless of the faith of the people, there have been specific rules to deal with leprosy, rules and traditions intended to keep fear and rumor from becoming the greater evil. Back in the book of Leviticus, if a priest declared a person to be unclean, that person was to live alone, outside the camp, estranged and apart from those who loved them and knew them. Only a priest could declare the person clean and able to rejoin life. That is where your Bible described Jesus meeting the lepers - outside Jerusalem. 

When Jesus told the ten to go and show themselves to the priests, the ten would have to enter the place where they had been banned - to go to the temple, where the priests were. They would have to convince the guards at the gates to allow them entrance into the city that had scorned them. Did Jesus really know what he was asking of the ten?

And here is the incredible thing: “And as they went, they were cleansed.” They didn’t have to wash themselves any particular number of times, or perform any certain cleansing rituals. They didn’t have to mix up any mud or dirt for smearing and they didn’t have to say any particular chants or words. The ten men must have been rather confident in Jesus. They must have been, or they wouldn’t have been going. 

So here’s the thing. My brother was the only Samaritan. The others could have anticipated Jesus healing them, would have felt deserving, because of who they were. But Dathan was the outsider, the one with no expectation of entitlement. 

Regardless of a person’s make-up, anyone can come to feeling entitled. Even one’s own people can fall into the trap of entitlement, with expectations of being treated well - in one way or another. Regardless of skin color, gender, nationality, or any other potential dividing characteristics, at any one time or another, we can fall into the trap of thinking that life should go well because I’m a good person and I deserve life to go well. No matter how much money we have or don’t have, how smart or talented we are or aren’t, we can fall into the trap of taking our blessings for granted. 

I would love to think that because my brother returned to Jesus, to thank him, that Dathan is a superior being. But he’s not. He’s still the same brother who knows how to pull my chain, irritate me and warm my heart to its core - in just the course of a few words. 

But I wonder: what if we were to shed that arrogance, laying it down and greeting every grace and bonus and gift with wonder and amazement? What if we faced that which seemed ridiculous and trivial and counter-intuitive as something that has been set before us for that which would make us whole, restoring us to inclusion?

Because exclusion is the insidious part of leprosy, isn’t it? Separation of the heart and proximity from those we love and care about - even if it isn’t phyical. Because if we embraced every moment as miraculous, practicing viewing the world that way, we might become more impervious to heartache. Yes, hearts would still get broken, but they could heal so much easier and better.  If we shed our arrogance, and laid down the burden of expecting everything to be fine, it would be easier to see God’s leading and the lessons God has for us. With every breath, we could begin the process of being glad, taking in the confidence that God wishes us well and that it shall be so. 

If this is our approach to the world, arrogance can turn into hopeful hope. I truly understand that it seems impossible that the world could be so changed. But look what happened to my brother. Dathan was undeservingly afflicted. But he was also made whole as he made his way to the the priests - before he got to the priests. His fullness of heart and gratitude took him back not only to thank Jesus, but to praise God. Dathan’s wholeness was full when his thanksgiving and praise were completed. 

It is my prayer that Dathan not only continues to be an example for me, but for all who hear his story. So shall we pray? Holy and Eternal God, we thank you for your leading and guiding, even when we deem it to be beneath our human dignity. We ask for your forgiveness for those moments when we think we know so much better than you. Thank you, too, that that which afflicts us doesn’t define us, and that you decree your blessing on us even in this moment and the next one to come. Help us to work through the things we think would grieve us, to see our life in your presence as flames of glad thanksgiving, alight with your love, healing us as we go. For these and all your blessings, all your people say, Amen. 

First Congregational Church
October 6, 2019
World Communion Sunday
Luke 17:5-10 & 2 Timothy 1:1-14
“Fanning the Gift of God”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

A customer at Stingray Fishmongers marveled at the owner’s quick wit and intelligence. “Tell me, Simon, what makes you so smart?” “I wouldn’t share my secret with just anyone,” Simon replies, “But since you're a good customer, I’ll let you in on it. Fish heads. You eat enough of them, you’ll be positively brilliant.” “You sell them here?” the customer asks. “Only $4 a piece,” says Simon. The customer buys three. 

A week later he’s back in the store, complaining that the fish heads were disgusting and he isn’t any smarter. “You didn’t eat enough,” said Simon. The customer goes home with 20 more fish heads. Two weeks later, he’s back and this time’s he’s really angry. 

“Hey, Simon,” he complains, “You’re selling me fish heads for $4 a piece when I can buy the whole fish for $2. You’re ripping me off!” “You see?” said Simon. “You’re smarter already.”

One day, the Sunday school teacher asked, “Now, Ole, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?” Ole said, “No sir, I don't have to. My mom is a good cook.”

One of the really interesting and captivating television shows back on this fall is called New Amsterdam. It centers around the nation’s oldest public hospital, and so there are bunches of surgeries and emergency room scenes. This past Tuesday, a little blip, almost a throw-away moment, caught my attention. 

It was between the head of the cardiovascular surgery department and a new, shy, surgically talented intern. They were discussing the lack of thoroughness the intern displayed on a patient, and at one point, the department head told the intern that he was smart. The intern, who supposedly has scraped and clawed his way through a modicum of eight years of school, replied, “No one ever told me I was smart.” 

This morning’s scripture passage uses the example of a servant. In Jesus’ day, the word for servant was also the word for slave. So the example Jesus uses is rather antiquated in terms of relevance in our modern age. As I thought about a good substitute, I think a waiter or waitress would fit, rather than a servant plowing or looking after the sheep - to get to a current meaning.

Luke 17:5-10
5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 6 He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you. 7 “Suppose one of you has a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Will he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? 8 Won’t he rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? 9 Will he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? 10 So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’”

2 Timothy 1:1-14
Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, in keeping with the promise of life that is in Christ Jesus, 2 To Timothy, my dear son: Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.
Thanksgiving
3 I thank God, whom I serve, as my ancestors did, with a clear conscience, as night and day I constantly remember you in my prayers. 4 Recalling your tears, I long to see you, so that I may be filled with joy. 5 I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also.
Appeal for Loyalty to Paul and the Gospel
6 For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. 7 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. 8 So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Rather, join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God. 9 He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, 10 but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. 11 And of this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher. 12 That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.
13 What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. 14 Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you—guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us.

Thank you, Judy. FYI, in coming up with a relevant comparison, please understand that I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t thank any wait staff we encounter. In fact, how they are treated often influences the service they give - intentionally or unintentionally. The point of bringing in waiters and waitresses is that we don’t usually invite them to sit down with us to eat, and in bringing us food, they are doing their job. And we get to express our gratitude in giving them a tip, the acronym for “to ensure promptness,” which seems to me, should be given before the meal, but I digress.

Co-pastor of All Saints Lutheran Church in Palatine, IL, Jennifer Moland –Kovash shared a story from her life that does a lot of the weaving in this morning’s shawl message. She says, “My grandmother was well into her 90s when I called ahead to let her know we’d be stopping to see her the next day. “I’ll make lunch,” she told me. I protested: that wouldn’t be necessary; I didn’t want her to go to the trouble. She finally acquiesced about lunch, and I hung up thinking I had won. I should have known better. She had more than nine decades under her belt of doing things her way.

We arrived as scheduled at her small, tidy apartment, our new baby in tow, exhausted from being new parents and traveling, so that my grandmother could meet her newest great-grandchild. After she held the baby and cooed over him, she said with a hint of smugness. “I made cake. Let’s have some cake. It’s nothing fancy. Would you like some coffee?” So we had cake and coffee, because I wouldn’t let her make lunch for us. As we thanked her profusely, she kept repeating. “It’s nothing fancy; it’s just cake.”

My grandma wouldn’t have prefaced her statement about the cake with “I am a worthless slave,” but her belief that she was only doing what she should have done rang loud and clear. When someone visited her, she served something—lunch, coffee, a little something sweet. I should have known better than to try to change how things were done.

She continues, I know many other people who have shrugged off the thanks I have offered them, saying that they’re simply doing their job, or doing what they ought to have done. I, too, sometimes become uncomfortable or don’t know how to respond when people thank me for doing what I ought to have done. 

I never would have considered not saying thank you, but I know that’s not what motivated my grandmother, or any of the others I have thanked. We don’t do it for the thanks; we serve those we love because it’s what Jesus calls us to do. Besides—don’t worry; it’s nothing fancy. It’s just cake. Let’s have coffee.” 

It’s not rocket science - telling someone they’re smart. In fact, it could be life-changing for someone who has never heard it. And it’s not rocket science - making cake. In fact, it can be endearing and far-reaching. And, of course, I’m not making a plea for cake makers for the Halloween Open House, but should you so desire, there are still pans left….

The writer of Luke reminds us to do what we feel we are supposed to do, not for the praise of it, but for the duty and even nobleness of doing what we’re supposed to do. Paul reminds us “to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.” It’s a point written to the young pastor, Timothy. But as it says on the back of our bulletin, all of us are ministers. 

This morning, as we celebrate our Lord’s Supper, we don’t exactly lay hands on each other, but we hand the cup and the bread to each other. Even in the moments of our leave-taking, we have opportunities to “fan into flame the gift of God” - love, joy, peace, mercy, forgiveness, in speaking words of encouragement and truth. Mind you, not every piece of “truth” needs to be uttered aloud, which exercises some of those smarts we have, called having tact. Even so, we are all so much more than smart, and after greeting one another this morning, you should by now - all know that you are all smart. 

But there are kind people among us that perhaps need their flame of encouragement fanned. And there are hard-working people among us who might really appreciate their flame of effort fanned. Whether here or amidst people beyond the church doors, there are people among us who are weary, who need their flame of perseverance fanned. 

As we enter into the time we share in our Lord’s Supper, as we prepare our hearts for this sacred act, let it fan the flame of God in you, that Christ’s gift of sacrifice and resurrection renew and strengthen our faith until the next time. 

Let us pray. God of all that is holy, thank you for giving us sacred work in tending to the work of your hands - in this earth, in the people you give us and in our own lives. Help us to guard the good deposit that was entrusted to us—guarding it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us. Help us, regardless of how great or small our faith, in being able to do what you call us to do - to love and help others in this world. Enable our faith to shine, for you, long after our time here on this side of eternity. And thank you for those who have spoken words or done a kindness that has changed our lives in big and little and all ways. And all your people say, Amen.

​We all have those days when…. Little Ole was taken to Dr. Hanson cause he hadn't eaten anything for days. Dr. Hanson offered him all the goodies he could think of. No luck. He even tried a little scolding and a little pleading, to no avail. Finally he sat down, faced the boy, looked him in the eye, and said "Look young man, if you can be stubborn, so can I. You're not going anywhere till you eat something. You can have whatever you want, but only after you have eaten, will you leave. “

Ole just sat and glared for some time, then said "Ok. I'll eat, but I have some conditions. First, I'll have exactly what I want and exactly how I want it, and second, you will share it with me.” Dr. Hanson was okay with this. He asked the child what he'd like. "Worms!" said Ole.

Dr. Hanson was horrified but didn't want to back out and seem like a loser. So, he ordered a plate of worms to be brought in. "Not that many, just one!” yelled Ole as he saw the plate. So, everything other than one worm, was removed. Ole then demanded that the single worm be cut into two, and then Dr. Hanson eat half. Dr. Hanson went through the worst ordeal of his life, and after finishing, barely managing to keep his cool said, "Ok, now eat!” Ole refused as he sobbed, "No way! You ate my half!” 

I don’t know if I was a stubborn child, but I have discovered that it is a quality that I’m learning to channel as an adult. I know there is no other person here who does this, but some days, I just have to keep reminding myself to stick to the job at hand. Those situations tend to come up when I’d rather be doing something else - like having to go to bed, rather than watching the next episode on the current binge watch. Or writing a sermon on a scripture passage I’d rather not use. 

Granted, we all have choices and we get to make them, regardless of their success or failure. And we often times have opportunities to leave one thing to take up another - like scripture passages for a particular Sunday. But sometimes, treading through what you’d rather not do is not only good for the soul, it can be an inspiration to others. 

I happened across an article about a 17 year old student at the school where I used to teach, and in fact, she may be the daughter of a former student. Ten weeks ago, Jordan was alone in her car when an approaching vehicle veered over the middle line, hitting her head-on, flipping the car on its top, pinning the girl. Not that that was bad enough, but the car started on fire, and in the end, with a broken arm and a  broken pelvis, she had to have both her legs amputated below the knee. Oh, yea, and she recently broke the school record set by her mother 20 years before in the 100 meter dash. Then, in the interview a local news station did on her, she said this.

“Honestly, I’m glad it happened the way it did, because, like, if anyone were in the car with me, I’d feel so bad, like putting their lives in danger. But it was just me, and I’m happy with what I have now, so I’m good with it.”

Back to today’s passage, it’s a parable that follows the “lost” chapter of Luke, the lost sheep, coin and son, and last week’s passage about God’s perspective in what is important. 

First Congregational Church
September 8, 2019
13th Sunday after Pentecost
Genesis 22:18 & Numbers 6:24-26
“The Spiritual Discipline of Pronouncing Blessing”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

An angel appears and says, "I'll grant you whichever of three blessings you choose. Wisdom, beauty, or ten million dollars.” Immediately, the man chooses wisdom. There is a flash of lightning, he is transformed, but then he just sits there, staring down at the table. One of his colleagues whispers, "You have great wisdom. Say something!” The man says, "I should have taken the money.”

This morning’s scripture passages, along with the theme of the Blessing of the Backpacks, are quite straightforward. The Genesis passage comes from the end of the scene in which Abraham finds a ram in a thicket to take the place of Isaac, when Abraham thought God was calling for him to sacrifice his son. 

The second passage comes after a lengthy job description of the Nazarites, the specially dedicated Israelites who would serve as priests. Immediately after that description, God demonstrates how priests are to bless Israelites. Because of their brevity, and room in the bulletin, I thought we could all read the passages aloud, together. So if you will find the bulletin insert, we can do that now.  

Genesis 22:18 New International Version (NIV)
and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.”
Numbers 6:24-26 New International Version (NIV)
“‘“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;  the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”’

A gentleman by the name of Dan Barker tells this story. I build gardens for people. In the past 12 years, I've built about 1,400 vegetable gardens in Portland, Oregon, almost all of them for people who didn't have the money to start a garden themselves. I bring everything in on a pickup truck - raised-bed frame, trellises, cages, seeds, starts, instructions, even the soil itself. Then I build the beds right on top of the people's lawns. 

I figure each garden costs about $500, most of which is covered by the grants I get for my foundation, The Home Gardening Project. And my wife and I don't mind living pretty frugally. Actually, we're as poor as church mice. But when you see the difference between what people's lives were like before they had gardens and after, well, you know this work just has to continue. 

I see a lot of people who are in tough situations. An old woman who is nursing her stroke-victim husband. A young and inexperienced mother, with no husband around, but several hungry children. A poor woman who voluntarily cares for five abandoned children, all born with spina bifida or other congenital defects. I think I've gotten used to meeting people who have it hard. Still, sometimes the ravages of life take my breath away. Let me tell you how I met Blossie. 

She calls me. She's alone, she's on Social Security, and crack-addict kids break into her house. She's heard about the program, and she'd love a garden. On the phone she sounds very tired and rapidly aging, like many of the other 150 callers I'm responding to this spring. 

She's slow to answer the door when I arrive. It's a struggle for her to wheel herself backward with one hand and pull the door open with the other. First I see the wheelchair, then her eyes - eyes that look to have absorbed more pain than a combat surgeon. Her face and hands are swollen. She's tried to cover her knees with a tattered towel, but I can see the white bandages caked with splotches of dried blood. Then I notice the wheelchair again - quite clearly because there are no calves or feet to obstruct the view.
She's just had her legs amputated, after a lifetime of aggravating her diabetes with poor diet and bad habits. She wants a vegetable garden to help improve what remains of her health. She wants a garden so she can go outside for a reason, get a little exercise, and have something to care for besides the little terrier at her side.
The house is embarrassingly messy and smells of uneaten food and old bandages. She plaintively invites me in, but I politely excuse myself. I'm busy, I say. I'll just go out back and site the garden.
She insists that she wants to come with me, or at least shout from the back door where she wants the garden built. I make a mental note to call the Senior Job Center and ask them to build a handicapped ramp for her the day after I build her garden. 

Blossie's need seems critical, so I bump her up on my waiting list and tell her I'll be by in two days with her garden on the back of my truck. For a second her brave forbearance changes to a smile, and her hands flutter in anticipation. The garden is going to connect her to life. She can hardly wait. 

So I'll have to build five gardens that day, and break my promise to my wife that I'd make this spring an easy season. She never expected me to keep that promise anyway. Facing Blossie, how could I say no? 

When I return, I build Blossie's garden in the sunny strip behind her back door, with easy access from the ramp that is coming in the next day or two. (Hooray for the old guys from the Job Center, with their hammers, tapes, saws, and heart.) 

I build the three frames of her garden double high, filled with six cubic yards of premium soil, so she can easily reach it from her chair. I also supply her with some tools I picked up at Goodwill, the handles cut to half-length. She watches from the backdoor. Soon she's on the phone to a friend telling her the news. 

"I know you want to get started as soon as you can," I say, handing her the seed packages and tray of starts. She takes them into her lap like a Christmas present, her eyes lighting up in hope. Suddenly she isn't listening anymore; she's ahead of herself, in the future, picking delicious tomatoes and basil for her summer salad, perhaps her only meal that day. She doesn't seem to hear me say that I'd be happy to send someone around tomorrow to plant if she doesn't feel like she's got the 'oomph' to do it herself. 

The thought of needing such help doesn't seem to cross her mind. She looks up and points out the old laundry sink out there in the bushes. Would I mind filling that up with dirt, too? She wants to grow some flowers, "just for pretties, you know." 

When I drive past her place the next evening, she's heading down her new ramp, wheelchair in high gear, and she's got the seeds and starts in her lap. Nothing can stop her now. It looks like another success story, similar to many others. 

It's not until summer rolls around that Blossie's story becomes different. While monitoring the gardens that August, I stop in to see her. I expect to find her as I usually had, housebound, in pain, hungry for some human contact, especially contact that wouldn't hurt her. 

I'm surprised by noise - the chatter and laughter of women coming from the backyard. I take a peek over the back gate. Blossie is holding court from her wheelchair over six other aged women. She spots me looking in, and orders me front and center, right now. She's exuberant, talking a mile a minute, her hands waving like a girl's. The ladies are with her every step of the way, and they're all talking about the garden. 

Blossie introduces me. I offer the women free gardens, since they like this one so much. They make appreciative sounds, but all say no. They already have a garden - this one. 

They all live down at the Housing Project, the nine-story one. There isn't anything but a parking lot around it, no place for a garden. Blossie had called one of them weeks ago, asking for some help and companionship. Pretty soon all six of these residents were coming down twice a week to help Blossie with her garden, weeding, fertilizing, replanting and watering. The garden, amazingly, is able to produce enough food for all of them to share. One of the women goes inside and emerges with a tray of tea service, a gesture that makes them laugh at themselves. After such long, hard lives, pretending to be genteel is silly - but fun. The garden itself is splendid, crowded with the vegetables Blossie likes to eat. 

Soon the women begin to stop noticing me. I leave them to their happiness and occupation, glad to have had a hand in it. Blossie's garden has grown up and spread out, helping six people in need besides herself. It's a wonderful sight. People are always asking, "What is the purpose of life?" That's easy. Relieve suffering. Create beauty. Make gardens. Bless people while subsequently blessing God.

In this sermon series of exploring the practice of spiritual disciplines, this morning gives us the “discipline” of blessing. Sometimes it is easy, this particular discipline, other times, it’s a little more difficult, because our humanity can get in the way. In either event, we may not fully appreciate the intensity behind blessings. 

In any given day, we have multiple opportunities to practice the pronouncement: “‘“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;  the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”’ Whether we say those exact words or help someone live into them, let us do so with this Fierce Blessing by Jan Richardson.

FIERCE BLESSING
Believe me when I say there is nothing this blessing would not do to protect you, to save you, to encompass you. This blessing would stand between you and every danger, every evil, every harm and hurt. This blessing would dare to wade with you into the waters that come bearing life. It would make a way for you through the waters that come threatening death. I cannot explain how fierce this blessing feels about you, but I can tell you it has more than pledged itself to you; it would lay down its life for you and not once look back in regret nor go in sorrow for what it has chosen to give. And you— so deeply blessed, so utterly encompassed— what will you save in turn? Not because it is owed, but because you cannot imagine failing to pass along this grace that casts its circle so wide, this love that flows so deep through this perilous and precious life.

​Let us pray. Gracious and Ever-loving God, Thank you for blessing us, so deeply, so fiercely, that we may be a blessing for others. Help us to realize the sacred opportunities that lie before us in being your holy ambassadors to a world that is so in need of gardens of blessing. Embolden us to do what may not seem like a big thing to us, because it could be life giving for so many more than we know. Help us to be more attentive to the blessings that come our way, that we may live more deeply and richly in this earthly life. Thank you for the ultimate of blessings - that of your son, in whose name we pray. Amen. 

​First Congregational Church
August 11, 2019
Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 12:32-40
“Treasures and Hearts”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

So this last week, I came across a picture of an air pump at a gas station, and the meme on it said, “Remember when air was free and now it’s $1.50? Do you know why? Inflation.” There was another graphic that suggested that if you want to know how cold it is in the Arctic, you should poll a bear. 

I set you up with those groaners, so that this one would be worthy of at least a shake of the head. You know how people refer to a section of writing, usually from a book as a passage or section? And sometimes, especially in connection with the Bible, a section is sometimes called a text? Isn’t it interesting that one of the most modern ways of communicating these days is with short, even abbreviated letters, words and phrases called - texts?

So this morning’s “text” comes from the book of Luke, halfway through its 24 chapters. In Luke’s arrangement of events, Jesus had been at a pharisee’s house for dinner. In a moment when Emily Post or Miss Manners would have blushed from the tips of their toes, Jesus points out the faults of Pharisees. When Jesus left, while the Pharisees began to figure out how they would entrap him in political snares, people began to gather, enough people that they were not only beginning to trample on one another, but they were probably on the verge of a riot. Jesus encourages the crowds, again with parables, but also with warning to be watchful in the coming days.  

Luke 12:32-40 
32 “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Watchfulness
35 “Be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning, 36 like servants waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet, so that when he comes and knocks they can immediately open the door for him. 37 It will be good for those servants whose master finds them watching when he comes. Truly I tell you, he will dress himself to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them. 38 It will be good for those servants whose master finds them ready, even if he comes in the middle of the night or toward daybreak. 39 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40 You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”

Thank you, Sonia. When I was looking at the Dollar Store Children’s Sermon video this week, Pastor John Stevens put out an interesting illustration. He suggested using an old family recipe, and in his case, it was chocolate almond rocca. 

His point was that you had to follow the recipe in the precise steps, or you wouldn’t get the perfect results. He then pointed out that the “recipe” of this morning’s scripture passage begins with “Do not be afraid.” Do not be afraid, before all the other things in that passage makes all the other things in that passage possible. With fear, the results of hope and preparations and all the other points aren’t nearly as good as when they are done without fear. The thing is, sometimes it’s easy to not be afraid, and sometimes - not so much. 

The photos in our minds are sometimes so vivid. The scenario of the night that I realized my passport was going to run out while on vacation a few weeks ago is still quite clear. Incidentally, a passport, even when expired, is still a valid form or id, and you can still come back into the States - by land. Even so, if you’re planning a trip any time soon, here’s your reminder to check the date.

Back to mental photographs, the day that the lesson was reinforced, that two people should not stand up in a 14 foot boat at the same time, is swimmingly clear. The scene in the back yard of the first house I grew up in, and the last day my mother tried to spank me with a yard stick is in high definition on steroids. 

I remember a sermon that a mentor of mine delivered somewhere in 1996 or 7, and perhaps it was even based on this scripture passage. What she said was, “If you want to know where your treasure is, look in your checkbook register.” It was a sermon long before the days of online banking and electronic transfers, but the point is still the same. If you want to see where your treasure is, look at your financial situation. My addition to my mentor’s point is, “Include your calendar in that understanding of what you treasure.” There is great truth in the idea, that despite busyness, we sometime make time for the things that are most important to us. It’s not true for everyone, but there are a good number of folks that can find the money to obtain that which they really want, even if it means going into debt, rather than saving up for whatever “it” is.

Years ago a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to  work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops. As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals.

Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. "Are you a good farmhand?" the farmer asked him. "Well, I can sleep when the wind blows," answered the man. Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him. The man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man's work.

Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook the man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!” The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows."

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

One might be tempted to suggest that sleep was so important to the hired man, that he took the extra steps to make sure that the would-a’s, could-a’s and should-a’s weren’t going to keep him awake at night. One might also be tempted to suggest that the hired man understood the worth of security - even job security - and so he did a little more than was expected of him, knowing that his efforts would return in manifold ways. If nothing else, one could say that the hired man understood the things that were important and he acted on them. 

Nearing the midst of August, in the perfectly sublime days of summer, one might be tempted to allow one’s brain to slide - exclusively - into neutral, running, but not moving. I totally support the idea of sometimes allowing our brains to idle from time to time. But when you’re waiting at the stoplight, or at the checkout, allow your brain to dredge up this morning’s message, and take a tally of what it “appears” to be important in your life, and lay that image - or those images - against what your heart tells you should be important - what your heart’s desire tells you is important. 

If you see congruity, awesome! Thank God for such as it is. If you see incongruity, then take some time in the coming days to determine what you can do about that. If you think you may need to back up a few steps and take another run at a particular endeavor or way of interaction, do so - and as Jesus said, fearing not, asking for God to help your treasure to shine brighter, so that you may help your heart find its way to those things of this world - and the next - that are really important. Until we have those moments for evaluating and clarifying our heart’s desires, we can surely pray.

Holy and Great God, thank you for giving us hearts and brains and lives and goals. We ask for your forgiveness when we deliberately miss the mark of aligning our hearts and brains and lives and goals with yours. Thank you, for your forgiveness and your heart’s desire for love and joy and grace and peace of heart. When we miss your desires by ignorance or simple error, guide us back to the place of alignment of you and us and spirit. Thank you for memory, wisdom and thought - that allows us to enter into this life - with you - and each other - rather than being sub servants in a scheme in which we have no significance. In gratitude and thanksgiving, all your people say, Amen.