A New Day Is Coming - Pentecost Sermon

 Galatians 4:1-7

Luke 11:11-13

Acts 2:1-4

            Today we once again have this amazing story that we hear every year about Pentecost.  And while it is really only four verses that we hear today, I want to start by once again doing a bit of a word study.  What I read to you today said “they were all together in one place”.  The word translated as “all together” has much deeper meaning than just “being together in one place.  It means more, “they were in one accord” in that place, or they “shared the same ardor, heat or passion”.  In other words, they weren’t just in the same place physically, but also mentally and more importantly, spiritually.  This passage follows the last time they have just seen Jesus.  They have seen him, Jesus has declared to them that the Holy Spirit will be coming upon them, Jesus has left them, they have travelled to Jerusalem, picked the disciple to replace Judas and now they are gathered together in a spirit of prayer and commitment when the Holy Spirit descends upon them. 

           Later in Acts, as we heard in our last month’s study of Acts, that this time is followed by many, many conflicts, and disagreements about who they are to be, who and what the church is and what it will and should do.  But that is not where they are here.  Here it began, with this moment of deep oneness, connection, and excitement about who they were and what they were called to do.  They understood their mission and they were about to begin it. 

            It is often in that space when we are most closely connected, most deeply aligned, excited about starting something new in which we experience the Spirit.  Note once again that this Spirit is not experienced by people alone here.  It comes to them when they are in community and worshiping, praying together.  These are not individualistic experiences.  They are experiences in community, in one-ness, in ardor.  And again, it happens at the beginning, in their excitement and passion about their work.

            As my lectionary group discussed this passage this week some of the pastors in our group talked about beginning congregations, being the start-up pastors for new churches and that in that excitement and spirit of passionate unity, they, too had group experiences of deep and profound movement of the Holy Spirit in their midst.  Everyone was working together towards one goal, the startup of the particular congregation, and the intensity of prayer and commitment often brought about these deep moments of sensing God’s presence in their midst, of feeling the Spirit guiding, shaping, encouraging their work.  But these wonderful and intense highs of the Spirit’s calling, the Spirit’s movement don’t usually last.  They are mountain top experiences of deep and profound joy, wonder, awe that quickly end up forgotten when conflicts arise, when differences of opinion show up.

            They shared that often those mountain top highs of sensing the Spirit can come back during a new pastor search or at the beginning of a new pastorate.  Then you have the “honeymoon” stage for a while, but that too wears off after a time.  And then those moments become harder to find.  But Holy Spirit moments do not have to be big events.  They don’t have to be big highs.  They are just moments when we rest in God, moments when we feel God’s presence, moments when we remember our deep connections to God, and through God to one another.  Holy Spirit moments are times when we are able to put aside our differences and to be united as one body, connected to God and one another.  All were connected, all were united under this Spirit.

            Today’s passage from Galatians is an extension of Pentecost.  To remind you of what we read, Paul writes about the facts of Roman society at the time.  “As long as the heir is a minor, he has no advantage over the slave.  Though legally he owns the inheritance, he can’t claim it until he is officially an “adult”, an age set by a father.  But when they become legal adults, they can claim their inheritance.  Paul says that in a similar way, in grace we have now been set free as adults, able to experience the heritage which God has prepared for us.  We are fully adopted as God’s heirs now.  That once the Spirit was received, we were made full adults, no longer slaves but full children, heirs.  This, too, then is a statement of inclusion and full heirs/adults.  Acts 10 tells us that God has no partiality.  As we read last week from Galatians 3, Paul tells us the walls no longer mean anything.  In Christ there is no Jew nor Greek, male nor female, etc, etc.  Inclusion is no longer limited by walls that need to be broken down.  That Pentecost passion includes everyone, which is why everyone can now understand each other even across differences in language.  That is what Pentecost is about. 

            But we struggle in our regular times, in our down times, when our passion and excitement for our faith, our church, are low.  And much of this struggle begins with the fact that we just don’t hear each other.  We just don’t understand one another.  I thought about starting this sermon with the words, “Hola!  Como Estan?  Estan felices ahora?  ¿Qual día es hoy en la iglesia?”  I know some of you would understand, but some wouldn’t. 

Still, we don’t even have to be speaking different languages to fail to understand one another.  One of my lectionary friends told us that when his son was little, their car broke down and they had to have it towed.  He told his son that he would soon get to see the car towed.  But when the tow man showed up to tow the car, the son was very confused and said, “where’s the car toad?  I want to see the car toad!” thinking that there would be a toad hopping around.  I remember when I was a child being told that the world was round.  I kept looking up to see the people on the other side of the world because I thought we were all on the INSIDE, rather than the outside of the earth.   

When we speak different languages, we can look it up in a dictionary when we don’t understand.  But idiomatic phrases still make it hard to understand each other.  Phrases like “don’t have a cow!”  or  “it’s raining cats and dogs”.  What are some of your favorite idiomatic expressions?  I used one the other day that was so familiar to me but that my children said they had never heard before and didn’t know what it meant.  “a Tempest in a teacup”

We also have trouble because we don’t communicate well.  I can’t tell you how many times people have made to me extremely vague unhelpful comments that communicate absolutely nothing.  “It isn’t like that” they will say.  “It isn’t like what?” I will ask.  “It just isn’t like THAT!” they will insist.  “Tell me what it is like?” I will push.  “Not like THAT.” They will say. 

But even more than poor communication, we struggle as a people to listen.  We don’t reflect back to check things out, we don’t ask clarifying questions.  But even more than all of this, we plan our responses while we are listening rather than just listening.  I’ve found this to be especially true in the Bay Area in which we talk so fast that there is no time for listening, for giving space to truly hear and THEN to form our responses.  I’ve shared this with you before but when David and I first met we struggled a bit with communication because he doesn’t listen in this terrible way.  He actually listens to hear.  Then he pauses to determine his response.  Because I was used to the pace of communication here, I would assume he wasn’t going to respond at all when he took the time to respond.  We’ve both learned: but I fear his learning has been in the negative direction of realizing he has to jump in more quickly rather than what he used to do in order to stay in the conversation.

We are divided.  And we make that so much worse than it needs to be.

            When I was in Cleveland there was a music group formed called “Elders of Jazz”.  These were “elders” in two senses of the word: they were all Presbyterian elders (ruling and teaching elders) from different Presbyterian congregations in the area.  They were also all retired, so “elder” in that sense too.  They served together, going around to different congregations with offerings of Jazz music for a Sunday.  However, at one point the founding church had a strong disagreement with the Presbytery.  That disagreement started with a theological difference, but moved then into the church withdrawing from the Presbytery and arguing with the Presbytery over the cost of doing so (as you know, our churches are owned by the Presbytery, not by the congregation, so when a church leaves the denomination, they are required to buy their building and grounds form the Presbytery).  This created a rift.  There was no longer a place for them to meet, to practice.  There was no longer common ground for them to be a united “elders of jazz”.  But they had the vision to see that disputes are temporary if we trust in the Spirit.  And that God’s call to be united in Christ extends beyond our differences and our diversity.  So they put a statement together for the Presbytery that said, “We currently are not meeting, but we are still in existence and waiting for the Spirit to unify us once again.”  With that attitude, they were, indeed unified once again, despite their differences and despite their struggles.  They remembered what it was to be “one in Christ”.  They remembered that the Spirit’s job is to connect us all and God and that if we let the Spirit do that, She will.  They remembered that they did not need to be in charge of everything, or control everything, or fight every time there was a disagreement. And so they prayed.  And they waited for the Spirit.  And they trusted that the Spirit would come.  As it did.

God gives us the gift of understanding each other across our differences – differences in understanding, differences in culture, differences in beliefs, differences in language.  This is the gift of God’s Spirit, uniting us and calling us to be church together, to be one together.  Amen.

Meet the Scapegoat...

     In one of those annoying middle of the night brain attack sessions I woke up thinking about a situation that I experienced 21 years ago now.  At that point in time I had been ordained for almost four years, I was pregnant with my first child and I was working for two different congregations as "music minister".  One of the congregations had Sunday morning pretty traditional services and I was their organist and music director as well as parish associate.  The other church I was serving also had a morning traditional service, but I was hired to lead their evening praise service, so I played piano, directed their praise team and the music we sang and played was mostly Christian rock.  This evening service had been pretty successful, a service for younger adults, in their 20s and 30s, lead by a young charismatic preacher who had been a seminary colleague of mine.  But after I had been there about three years, 21 years ago, the charismatic young pastor had decided to resign and to begin his own congregation.  There were a number of reasons for this, but I think a lot of it had to do with conflict in the congregation.

    Without that pastor there, then, the conflict changed focus and took the form of deciding that they no longer wanted to have two services anymore, but wanted us to all join in for one service.  Two men from session met with myself and the organist/music director who played for the more traditional service with a plan of action.  They told us that their plan was that their organist would continue to be the organist and music director, but that they wanted to hire me as the assistant music director, which meant that I could come and "help" their regular music director, maybe bringing some of the praise music from the evening service to the morning services.  I explained that I had a job Sunday mornings as an organist/music director for another church.  It would not be possible for me to be at their church Sunday mornings.  But these two men (and the male organist) would not listen to me.  "Oh, it's fine!  You can just come to choir rehearsals and you can have Sunday's off from your other job to play for us occasionally!"  

    "No, I can't.  I get two Sundays a year off from my other job.  I cannot come over and play for you occasionally."

    "Oh, it's fine!  We'll just switch and our organist can go play for them while you play for us!"

    "No.  I have a contract with that other church that does not include bringing in substitutes on Sunday mornings.  They have hired ME, not this other person and you cannot assume they will be okay with me sending someone else to lead them."

    "Oh it's fine!  You will just be helping our organist anyway!  It's not a problem at all!"

    I finally just sat there quietly, saying nothing.  They weren't listening.  And several things were very, very obvious to me:

    1.  Their current organist/music director had absolutely no need for an assistant.

    2.  The only reason they were pushing this agenda is that they knew that if they fired me in order to unite the two services, probably all the young people they were hoping to have leave the evening service to join in the morning service would also leave the church.

    I could see the manipulation, but I didn't know what to do about it.  They had no intention of listening to me at all.  

    But about a week later, a young, female member of session who attended the evening services approached me and asked for my opinion on it.  I explained to her exactly what I had tried to explain to these three men: I have a Sunday morning job where I am the music director/organist.  I am also parish associate there which means I get to preach on occasion and am recognized for being an ordained pastor.  I cannot give up a job where I am valued and have meaningful work, a job I have had as long as this one, for a new job as an "assistant" to a man who doesn't need an assistant simply because it feels politically expedient to the session to retain me as an employee.

    Two weeks later at a public meeting discussing the future of the church, the congregation was told that any division in the church was my fault.  The woman speaking explained that I had told the three men (the two session members and the music director) one thing, while going behind their back to talk to another session member with another story all together.  It was MY fault if all the young people left the church because I was not willing to work with them.  I was an evil, destructive person for not doing their bidding, and staying on as assistant to the music director.

    I was shocked.  So shocked that I became speechless.  I was never good in confrontive situations with being able to speak my truth.  I never was.  And in this case, the shock of what they were saying left me absolutely speechless.

    Afterwards a special session meeting was called and I was "invited" to share my story.  I went to the meeting and tried to explain again that I had a Sunday morning job already, at which I was organist and parish associate.  I explained once again that I only got two weeks off from that job and that it was clear to me that I was not actually needed to be the assistant to the music director at this church.

    But my "persecutors" (as I came to think of them) were masters at turning the questions around and making it appear, once again, that I was the bad guy in this situation.  "So, you are unwilling to be an 'assistant'" one said.  "You feel you are too good to work under anyone else."

    "No!" I said.  "At the church where I work in the mornings, I am just parish associate.  That means I work under the pastors of the church.  At my last church I was an Associate Pastor.  I had no trouble working under someone else.  But you are asking me to quit a job I love where I am the music director, organist, and parish associate to start what is basically a new job as an unneeded assistant."

    "Yep! She thinks she is too good for us!"  the response came back.

    I was dumbfounded.  If I had been a man, no one would ever have questioned the choice to stay in a job where I had more responsibility, more consistency, was needed, was valued, to take a new position as an unneeded, unnecessary assistant to someone else!  No one would have questioned that.  But once again, their comments and attacks left me inarticulate, unable to speak my truth, unable to defend myself.   All I could do was say, "I'm sorry.  I cannot take this job."  

    As I woke in the middle of last night I found myself moving, though, from anger to compassion.  This little group of folk had just lost their pastor.  They were about to also lose most of the young people that that pastor had nurtured: a whole congregation of younger folk that had been brought together into a thriving community.  Without those young people, eventually the church would close, as it did a few years later.  They did not have the vision to make different choices.  And they needed someone to blame.  It no longer served them to blame the pastor who had left.  The decisions they were making now were their own to make.  I was an easy scape-goat.  I didn't know most of them and they didn't know me because none of these folk except the one female session member who had talked to me, had ever attended the evening service that I had played and directed the music for.  Self-reflection in this situation would simply have been too painful.  Thinking of solutions outside of the box was too much a stretch for them when they were stressed and grieving.  And they couldn't do these things.  

    These memories also led me to think about the many ways in which people manipulate truth.  As we've watched over the years, but especially in the fairly recent past, people believe what will most validate their already held beliefs.  They will even deny their senses, proclaiming things didn't happen that they saw with their own eyes if doing so will help them to uphold their old beliefs and values.  I was stunned to hear, the other day, that some people are now denying the attack on the capitol that happened in January.  But I shouldn't have been.  Despite the video coverage, despite the fact that it was caught live and we all saw it, when threatened with a truth that will make people have to re-evaluate their stance, many will choose to ignore their own senses and own experiences.  And again, it comes back to the reality that self-reflection for many folk is simply too painful.  It's just too hard for many people to have to change their ideas, their understandings, their beliefs.  They'd rather deny their senses than have to change ideas that have grounded them for so long.  

    None the less, I think the pursuit of truth is a valuable endeavor, even if it is painful, even if it is hard.  I don't want to live a lie, personally.  I don't believe it ultimately serves me to hang on to things that are not real, just so I can tell myself I was right in my former opinions.  Why are we here if not to grow?  And that growth requires looking deep, being willing to change, being open to learning that we were wrong and may have to evaluate situations differently.  

    I still strive for compassion for those who cannot see, who choose not to see.  I would wish for them something better.  But that is each person's decision to make.  For myself, I will take the reminder of what I experienced 21 years ago as a call to listen and a call to look with honesty.  I will take it as a gentle push to be willing to self-reflect and to not scape-goat others when I have fault in a situation that is hard or painful.  I will use it to remind myself that not one of us has the whole story, the whole truth.  There is always more to learn, more ways to grow, and more hope for bridging.  

The Rules no Longer Apply

                                           Luke 1:68-79

Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29

               This week we continue our journey through the book of Galatians.  Just as we witnessed with our study of the book of Acts, the early church in Galatia is also struggling and dealing with conflict.  Today’s conflict has to do with how the Spirit is received.  It was a conflict then, and it remains a conflict now.

               “How did your new life start?”  Paul asks.  As we discussed last week, this continues the struggle about whether or not you have to DO something to be given or to find this new life.  And Paul is angry here as he writes to the Galatians.  He starts with these really strong phrases: in The Message version: “Did someone put a spell on you?  Have you taken leave of your senses?  … it’s obvious that you no longer have the crucified Christ in clear focus in your lives.”    In the Common English translation it says “You irrational Galatians!  Who put a spell on you?”  And the NIV translates it, “You foolish Galatians!  Who has bewitched you!”  Regardless of which of these translations you prefer, these are really strong words.  Paul is mad because people are trying to insist on certain things being done in order to be admitted into the faith.  They are fighting about who is doing what, and if they are doing enough, and if they are following the Mosaic law perfectly so that they can be admitted into the faith.  And he is emphasizing once again that it is not action that will save them, but grace.  There is nothing that you need to do or be to be invited in, nothing that you have to fix or follow to be loved and accepted by God.

               People were being foolish because they’d been a part of God working through them, they’d seen these amazing things taking place, these communities of deep faith being formed, these incredible connections with life and the Divine, and yet they’ve forgotten that this had very little to do with them, with their actions, with their behavior.  It happened all around them, it happened without them, it happened despite them.  They did nothing to earn it, they did nothing to bring it, it was all grace.  But they had quickly, very quickly forgotten this. 

               This was hard then and it is hard now.  My lectionary friend told me that she and a friend went to watch a baptism at the local Pentecostal church when she was a kid.  They did a full emersion baptism and then they apparently told the person baptized to pray until the Spirit “descended” by which they meant that they recognized a baptism by the Spirit as one that would cause the person to speak in tongues.  The person would have to pray for as long as it took for that “spirit baptism” to happen, whether it was 30 seconds or 5 hours.  They believed this to be the only “real” baptism and that if it did not happen for a person this way, their baptism was not legitimate.  While this was not something they had to “do” to earn grace, it was a sign that they had received that grace of the Spirit.  Without that specific outward sign, they would not believe grace and the spirit were given.  But you can’t force the Spirit.  It happens when it happens.  It comes when it comes.  And it comes in the way that it comes, regardless of what you do, what you want, the signs you seek, the demands you put on the Spirit.  You can listen for it, you can wait for it, but you can’t push it or earn it, you can’t control it, demand it, or expect it to manifest in particular ways.

We still struggle with this.  We don’t want “cheap grace” by which we mean, we feel better about the things we get if we’ve worked hard for them.  If we’ve done something to deserve them.  And when gifts come to us through grace despite what we have done or failed to do, we quickly re-write that story, claiming credit for what we have, forgetting that it was by the grace of God that we met that person, or were touched by this person; that we fell into that place, that job, that situation, that relationship.  We forget that grace abounds despite and not because of anything that we could do or fail to do.   

We hear in this story that the Spirit manifests most fully when people take the time to listen, to see, to sit and wait.  As the scripture we read from Acts 15 a couple weeks back said, “once Peter spoke, the whole assembly fell silent.”  That is a taking in of the Spirit, a listening and accepting of the Spirit offered.  That Spirit then inspired them to tell their stories of The Holy Spirit comes to us predominantly through LISTENING: the one thing that is so very, very hard for us to do.  And that takes place in so many ways.  Quakers services are all about simply listening, resting in the silence of God until insight or wisdom is given that one feels called to share.  For Presbyterians we believe that the holy Spirit manifests in community.  We listen at session meetings, at Presbytery meetings and at the General Assembly meetings for the Holy Spirit as it moves between and among people, understanding that it is the diverse voices TOGETHER that manifest the Spirit for us.  We believe deeply that “call” is discerned in community as well, which is why when a person wants to be a pastor, they must go to their church community for affirmation of that call, then the Presbytery as well. 

Whenever I think about this, I remember the Presbytery meeting I attended in Ohio where the pastor was saying that seminary students should be allowed to attend whatever seminary they wanted, without guidance from the Committee on the Preparation for Ministry.  He gave a long speech about how he was called to attend a different seminary, but that the Committee on the Preparation for Ministry had insisted that he take a couple classes at least at a Presbyterian Seminary.  He kept saying they were wrong to push that and he had defied them because that was not his call.  But to all the rest of us it was clear that he had actually not understood at all what it meant to be Presbyterian and that his very speech, declaring a call that was in great contrast to the call discerned by the larger BODY, was proof of his lack of understanding.  In fact, two years later he left the denomination completely.

The thing is that people can use “spirit language” pretty manipulatively, as we know.  “God said to me” or “The Holy Spirit spoke to me” and then they usually say whatever it is they want to believe, or whatever it is that they want others to believe.  This is why we believe that the Spirit is recognized, manifested, understood, and heard in community.  It helps us to stay accountable for what we believe we have “heard” from the Spirit.  It helps us to stay accountable for what we believe the Spirit is trying to tell us.   The Holy spirit is against the personality cult.  The spirit can touch us personally, it can move within each individual, but it is never private: call is discerned together, the Spirit is made manifest in community. 

As my lectionary group discussed these passages and the showing up of the Holy Spirit, we all talked about the many times parishioners have approached each of us and said, “Thank you so very much for saying x today” and then went on to say something that we had never, ever said.  I can’t tell you how many times that has happened for me, personally, and as we discussed it, we found that all of us had had this experience multiple times.  But in those moments, we recognize that sometimes the Spirit can help people to hear what they need to hear in a moment, even if it is NOT actually what has been said at all!  In those moments it is personal, but again, not private.  The messages heard are always messages of caring for one another, of loving one another, of connection and community.

Barb George forwarded to me a YouTube video this week, one that I had seen before but which is really very appropriate for today’s focus as well.  The video is called “shoulder taps”  and in it Bill Hart says this:

Toni and I were having lunch at California Pizza kitchen the other day and I noticed this elderly woman who’s dressed nicely sitting down at a large table by herself for about five minutes.  And then after a while her daughter and three or so grandkids show up.  And they are looking spectacular and like they are getting ready for a nice meal.  About that time a voice in my head says “You need to go and tell her how pretty she looks.”  Then our food arrives, the check arrives and we’re going to go down this walkway in this strip center and on to the next thing that we are going to move to.  So…  on my way out, I kneel down put myself down at her level where she is in her chair and I say, ‘if no one else has told you this today I just wanted to say how lovely you are.’  And she looks at me with a look I’ve never seen before and she says, ‘I know you.’  And I said, ‘no, we’ve never met each other.’ And she says, ‘I know your spirit.’  And it gets really quiet between us and she says, “my husband died a year ago and that is something he would have said to me.’  And at that moment I can’t talk.  I’m overcome by emotion and I just hug her, smile at her through tears and I leave.  But here’s what I know and why I’m telling you this.  I believe God taps us on the shoulders and uses us at just the right moment.  And what I know for sure is that she was blessed and I was enormously blessed.  So I’ve learned in my life to listen to these shoulder taps because they do happen.  And the more we listen to them, the more in alignment we are with God.  And that’s an awesome place to be.”

 

               Those are moments where the Spirit reaches out and touches us with grace.  But, as Bill Hart said, we have to be listening for it.  We have to be open to it. 

               I was given a song a couple months back, called “Speak Now” from “one Night in Miami”

 

Listen, listen, While the storm in your heart is raging, Listen, listen, listen

Listen, listen, To the echoes of martyrs praying. Listen, listen, listen

Listen, Brothers and sisters, Listen, listen, listen

I swear we'll never find a way to where we're going, all alone

Don't take your eyes off the road

 

Can you hear the bells ring out? Speak now,  Speak now

Can you hear the angels sing loud? Speak now. Speak now

 

Listen, listen, To the message of hope in the whispers of ghosts, Listen, listen

 

Listen, For the children will grow on the seeds that we sow; They listen, they listen

 

Oh, listen, Brothers and sisters

Listen, listen, I swear we'll never find a way to where we're going, all alone

Don't take your eyes off the road

 

Can you hear the bells ring out? Speak now, Speak now

Can you hear the angels cry out? Speak now, Speak now

Don't you hold your tongue

Speak now (speak now)

Speak now (speak now)

Speak now (speak now)

Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-ooh-oh

Can you hear the angels? Speak now (speak now)

Speak now

 

               Growth happens, change happens because grace abounds.  And grace abounds when we listen and are open for the movement of the Holy Spirit.  But, just as the Galatians who were struggling to remember, struggling to be quiet enough to listen and be moved by the Spirit, we struggle too.

               One of my pastor friends in Ohio began a project there known as “the Phoenix Project”.  It was a church community that met in a store front in one of the more urban, poorer areas of Cleveland.  And it attracted young people.  Young people who were lost, most of them, struggling with many issues: poverty, drug addiction, rejection for sexual orientation or gender identity.  It attracted these young people who built an amazing community of support and care.  The Presbytery funded it initially, but we generally have rules in our Presbyteries that church communities have to be financially self-supportive within a five year period from their start.  There was no way that this community of very young, mostly homeless and extremely vulnerable young people would ever be able to support themselves and eventually the Phoenix project shut down.  The larger community of the Presbytery did not listen deeply enough for the movement of the Spirit that goes beyond finances and “what we’ve always done”.  It was a tragedy. 

But as we discussed it this week, I also heard that listening has to go both ways.  When we bring a new project, or a new idea; one that we have learned to hear, learned to accept, learned to support as a calling of the Spirit, we have to remember that when we present it to others, what may have rattled around in our own brains for 20 years or so may be completely new to those who are hearing of it for the first time.  The idea may need time to grow, to develop, to plant as a seed that will grow into a tree.  Our listening has to go in both directions.  The pain of change, or lack of change goes both ways.  It is not easy for us, but it invites us to listen deeply to one another as we all listen for the Spirit’s movement.  The UCC slogan of “I’m not done yet” – the idea of a comma instead of a period, it crucial.  In Presbyterian churches we say “reformed and always reforming”.  Same idea: the Spirit is not done with us yet. 

The Spirit continues to move, to grow, to have new things to tell us.  We can’t do anything to earn that.  We can’t do anything to deserve that.  We can’t force it, we can’t expect it.  But it is there through grace.  It is there inviting us to do one thing and one thing only: to listen.

I want to end by inviting you to hear the song I quoted above and to open your ears and hearts to listen for where God’s Spirit is speaking to you today.

Justified by Faith?

 

James 2:1-17

Galatians 1:13-17, 2:11-21

John 15:9-17

One year at famous acrobat who wanted to show the world the extent of his talents.  He decided he would push a wheelbarrow with a person inside across a tight rope that was strung over Niagra Falls.  He practiced often and early, working hard to make sure that it would be a success.  As he was practicing one day, an observer came by and said, “Wow!  This is such a wonderful idea.  And I have seen your talents and abilities and I have every confidence that you can do this!” The acrobat replied, “Do you really?”  “Absolutely,” the observer countered, “There is no doubt in my mind that you will be successful at this.”  The acrobat pushed him a little harder, “You really think I can do this.  Even with a person in the wheelbarrow?”

“Yes!  I have complete faith in you.  Even with a person inside, your skill would overcome any danger!” came the quick reply.  The acrobat smiled a huge relieved smile as he replied, “Good!  Then tomorrow you will ride in the wheelbarrow!”

“Are you crazy?” the observer countered, “I could get myself killed!”

We believe, God.  Help our unbelief.

Faith.  We say that we are believers.  But do we really believe?  This joke points out to us that belief, that faith, is not just about declaring that we accept something as true.  Our actions show at a much deeper level what, in fact, we actually believe. 

Historically we know that there has been a division in our church, between those who believe in salvation by faith, and those who believe in salvation by works.  This was one of the key issues that surrounded the Protestant Reformation.  Parishioners in the Roman Catholic church at that time were told they needed to earn salvation, first by doing good things, but also by buying indulgences in order to get out of time in purgatory and into heaven.  And Martin Luther said “no” - we are not saved by the things we do, or the money we give the church, but by our very faith.  Salvation does not have to be bought with action or money or favors or anything other than our faith. He had a good point in saying that grace is a gift, not earned, something we can do nothing to obtain.  But I would dare to say, that what began as an important point, what started as a stand against injustice, has in itself become a corrupted understanding that has now led once again to the creation of injustice in some of our churches.

We have talked about one example of this that was really evident in Central America for a long time. For many years, the dominant religious leaders were enforcing injustice, keeping the poor people poor by proclaiming that since they are richer in their faith when they are materially poor, and since God promises their reward will be much greater because of that wealth of faith, that they should be grateful for their poverty and not try to raise themselves up.  This is a corruption of the doctrine of salvation by faith.  It is a misuse of biblical passages, it is a mistaken declaration that future salvation means that the present life doesn’t matter and that it is okay for those who are wealthy to ignore the current suffering of the poor, because we believe that they will be saved after death by their faith.

When I worked as a missionary in Brazil for a summer, I saw a very similar situation there.  There were two kinds of missionaries serving in Brazil, and often standing across the street from one another in an especially poor area.  On one side of the street would be people handing out Bibles.  In Brazil, the Christian church is starkly divided between Protestants and Catholics, and the people handing out Bibles were Protestants trying to “save” Catholics into Protestantism by declaring that Catholics were not really believers.  Across the street from them would stand the other group of missionaries, with a hot pot of soup, a truck full of good, second-hand clothing, a couple chairs for people to sit and rest for a minute.  These two groups of Christians were often at great odds with one another.  Those handing out Bibles told those serving soup that they just obviously did not care about the salvation of the people, the only thing that really mattered. And those handing out soup stood on the passages of the Bible such as the passage in James 2: 14-17: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them?  Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?  In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.”  In the middle of this fighting, the faith itself, Christianity itself, looked problematic to those they would serve; it seemed confused and corrupt, it looked like a faith that was lost.

Today we move in our narrative lectionary study into a look at the book of Galatians, another seldom read book of the New Testament.  And today’s scripture is especially interesting to me because of a long-time translation error that has only recently been corrected. If you have your NIV bibles in front of you, I invite you to look at chapter 2 verse 16.  This has historically been translated, “know that a person is not justified by the works of the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ.”  The word “faith” here is a gerund.  And while it has historically been translated “faith in” Jesus Christ, it is more accurate to say “faithfulness of Jesus Christ.”  I will now re-read for you this passage as it more accurately should be translated, “However, we know that a person isn’t made righteous by the works of the Law but rather through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ.  We ourselves believed in Christ Jesus so that we could be made righteous by the faithfulness of Christ and not by the works of the Law.” (CEB translation).  Do you hear how this mistranslation of ONE WORD has changed the meaning of these scriptures entirely?  This is a reemphasis that we are healed, we are made righteous, we are saved, we are made whole entirely and completely by GRACE.  Galatians continues, “I don’t ignore the grace of God, because if we become righteous through the Law, then Christ died for no purpose.”  For NO purpose.  And yet, we continue to insist that others follow the same paths that we do, that others have the same rules and laws that we do within the church. 

I’m not saying that our faith doesn’t matter.  Of course it matters because if we don’t believe it, we can’t accept it in.  The grace is always there.  It’s always offered.  But if we choose not to accept that grace in, we can’t be healed by it.  But what I am saying is that it begins with the grace, always.  And the grace is ultimately what heals us, it is not what we do, it is what God does.  Again and again and again.

And that brings us to the passage from John.  As Jesus says here, “You didn’t choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you could go and produce fruit and so that your fruit could last.”  Again, it starts with God.  It starts with God choosing us, claiming us, offering us grace.  It begins there, but it doesn’t end there.  For we are called to produce fruit.  And what does that fruit look like, “I give you these commandments so that you can love each other….If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love…. This is my commandment, love each other just as I have loved you.”  And why does God command this?  To be mean?  To be harsh?  To be insistent on the law?  No, “I have said these things to you so that my joy will be in you and your joy will be complete.”  God asks us to love because God loves us.  God asks us to love so that we may find true and deep joy.  God asks us to love so that our joy will be full and complete.

But again, the idea of salvation here by something we do is false.  And the idea of salvation here by something we believe is equally false except in that our faith opens us up to receiving in that grace that is so fully and completely offered.  The dichotomy which we have set up, between faith and works is a false one.  If we really, actively believe that Jesus is the divine incarnate, then we will believe what Jesus says.  And if we believe what Jesus says, then we must believe that the call of our lives is not only to love God with everything we’ve got, but also to love our neighbors, and yes, our enemies, as ourselves.  If we really believe, at our core, that we are to love everyone as ourselves, then we will live lives that try to make sure that all people, not just our family members, not just those in our immediate circle, have enough to eat; we will live lives that work to make sure that all people, not just those close to us, have lives worth living; we will do everything in our power to make sure that all people, not just those who agree with us politically or are in the same economic class, same race, same upbringing, same economic class, same country of origin, or same whatever can all live the lives that they want to live: lives filled with enough material good, with education, with healthcare, with dignity, with respect, with joy, with opportunities for their kids, with safety and well-being.  If we really believe, then we will have to take very seriously Jesus’ statement that our call to serve the poor is not just for them - it is for our very salvation as well.  And that our joy will only be complete when everyone has enough.

And then, finally, we return to the passage from James.  James also makes really clear in this passage that we are asked to do this, we are asked to love our neighbors as ourselves, for our own sakes as well as for the sakes of the poor.  I am poorer in my faith because of my wealth.  It is only in giving that away, in being willing to risk and in living by that faith that my faith is built and increased.  We are called, by this passage, not just to help the poor because they are poor and in need of our help, but for our own salvation, for the increase of our own faith, for the living out of God’s kingdom for all.

Taking this to the next step, then, we have to recognize that this call is hard, hard, hard beyond anything.  As Jesus himself said, “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.”  And ALL of us here are richer than the people Jesus was referring to at the time.  The reality is that we are not just short in our works, it is not just that we all fail to earn our salvation, the reality is that we also don’t have enough faith for our salvation.  We just don’t have it.  Very few with resources like we have really do.  Very few are willing to get into the wheelbarrow when we are called to the test.  So where is the good news in this?  Where is the good news that we are promised in our faith when we fall short both in works and in faith?

I am reminded of a story in which a man who died was told by St. Peter outside the pearly gates that he had to have 200 points in order to get into heaven.  The man thought hard and finally said, “Well, let’s see.  I was a member of my church of 47 years, a deacon, and a Sunday School teacher for 32 years.”  St. Peter replied, “That’s very good.  That’s one point.” 

The man looked scared but he continued,  “Oh my.  Let me think again.  I was a good husband.  I never cheated on my wife.  My children loved me because I was a good father.  I tithed, and volunteered at the soup kitchen.  I was in the Lions Club...”  St. Peter responded, “That’s very good, too.  It sounds like you were a man of both great faith and great works.  One more point.”  The man began to sweat as he thought and thought, searching for something that could give him the last 198 points.  Finally he said, “Gosh, if I get in here, it will be by the grace of God.”  At this St. Peter exclaimed,  “And that’s worth 200 points.  Come on in!”

We fall short in our Christian actions because we fall short in our Christian faith. But the good news in this is that we aren’t saved by our works, and frankly, we aren’t saved by our faith either.  The good news is that God wants to make possible our impossibilities.  As Jesus said to the disciples, “what is impossible for humans is possible for God.”  The good news is that God loves us despite our inadequacies of works and faith.  The Good news is that we are saved, not by works, not by faith, but by Grace.  God saves us through God’s grace which chooses us, forgives us, loves us, and calls us.  It is through that grace and only that grace that we are brought into eternal life.  It is through that love which gave its life for us that we are brought into God’s realm.  It is through that passion by which God overcame even death to be with us, even when we killed God’s son, that we, too, are brought into new life.  We have failed ourselves, each other and God.  But God still loves us more than life and still wants us to be part of God’s kingdom.

I’m not saying that faith and works don’t matter. Our faith opens us to accept that grace in.   But faith, too Paul tells us, is a gift from God; not earned, but given.  Works are a living out of that faith, a grateful response to that grace freely given.  In other words, it is through God’s grace that we have faith and do works.  It is through God’s grace that we find our faith and have the courage to begin living it out.  Through God’s grace, God helps us to grow closer to God and to love more deeply.

Dear God, we pray that you would give us the faith to see your grace all around us, in every day, in every way.  We pray that You would help us to live out that grace through deeper faith and more generous works.

Limiting God with Our Rules

 

Luke 2:29-32

Acts 15:1-18

               Today we continue our study of Acts with another very interesting story about the continuing conflicts in the early church.  And this one has to do with circumcision and following the other laws of Moses.  It is important to put this in context and remind you all that at this point Christianity was not a separate thing.  There were Jews who were followers of Jesus and there were Jews who did not see Jesus in the same way.  But at this point in time, there still was no such thing as “Christianity” per se.  It was not a new faith, a separate faith.  But things were changing, and fast.  For one thing, Judaism had been cultural as well as religious. And now, followers of Jesus were joining the throngs who were not steeped in Judaism, were not raised Jewish.  Gentiles were joining the movement.  And this was causing huge debates.  Should these people, as they join in this new following within Judaism, should they have to obey all the rules of Judaism, too?  Do they have to be circumcised as the Jews who had been raised in the faith had been?  And is that really fair to adult men to force on them something that the long-standing Jews went through as infants?

               They aren’t decided.  They aren’t settled.  They are fighting about something that deeply matters to the people, on both sides of the issue.  Do these new converts have to follow all the rules and rituals and practices and even beliefs that those raised in Judaism had followed?  This was the debate.  And the outcome?  Well, we heard it today.  Peter states that God does not distinguish and differentiate between peoples in this way and we therefore can’t do it either.  The Gentile converts therefore do not have to follow the same rules because they, like those steeped in Judaism, are saved by grace and grace alone.

               Peter’s speech about this, his conviction about this is VERY interesting.  First and foremost it is interesting because of the reasons he gives for his insistence that the Gentiles no longer have to follow all of the Mosaic laws.  He does not say, “We should not insist on circumcision because it isn’t very welcoming of us to do so.”  Neither does he say that the practices and rituals of the faith are unimportant.  But what he does say is that this is not just about the people.  This is about our very understanding of God.  “Why then are you now challenging God by placing a burden on the shoulders of these disciples that neither we nor our ancestors could bear?”

               He is pointing out that we LIMIT GOD by insisting on these rules, these practices, for all people.  We are limiting God when we expect people to follow a set of rules that are too hard for them to follow.  He isn’t just saying that people can’t do this easily.  He is not just saying that we will limit our welcome, limit our congregation size, limit the numbers of those who come to church by these rules and regulations, rituals and hoops that we insist upon.  It limits GOD, God-self when we block doors, and set up barriers between God and God’s people.  And then he continues by saying, “On the contrary, we believe that we and they are saved in the same way, by the grace of the Lord Jesus.”  God has created the door, God has created the opening into faith and into relationship with God.  And that door is one thing only: that door is grace.

               There is nothing that we can do, and there is nothing that we can fail to do, that determines salvation for us.  Salvation, relationship with God, the life we experience through our faith, these things come through grace.  They come through grace offered to all people.  No one gets there without it.  No one finds God, finds relationship to God without it.  And no one fails to receive the grace that God offers when they open their hearts to accept it.

               I found myself remembering a time at my last church when a woman came in wanting a tour of the church.  I showed her around, told her about the many, many ways we were doing service in the community, told her about the amazing music program, etc., when she stopped me and said, “Bottom line: do you make sure that everyone here believes that Jesus is the only way to salvation?”  Something about the way she phrased it caught me off guard.  So I pushed a little, “I’m sorry.  Are you saying that people have to believe that Jesus is the only way in order to be saved?”  “Yes.”  She said.  I was confused by this.  I know there are many Christians who believe that faith in Jesus is the only way they can be saved.  But that is faith in Jesus as Lord.  That is faith in Jesus as the WAY.  It is not faith THAT Jesus is the only way.  So I pushed a little further.  “So, it’s not faith IN Jesus that saves, but faith THAT Jesus is the only way that saves?”  “Yes” she said again.  “Are there other specifics about belief that are also required in order to be saved?”  I asked, just curious.  “Oh, well, yes!”  She said and began to list a whole bunch of things.  I finally stopped her and asked, “And where does grace fit into this?” 

               “Well,” she said, “Grace is what picked you to have these beliefs in the first place.”

               “Ah.  So, God determined who would be saved and who wouldn’t, and God made those people believe certain things and thereby only extended grace to those few God had picked?”

               “Yes.”

               “And the signal that they are saved is that they all have ‘right beliefs’.”

               “Yes”.

               I was reminded of an Ann Lamott quote: “You know you’ve made God in your image when God hates all the same people you hate.”  Or in this case, you know you’ve made God in your image when there is only one right set of beliefs and that happens to coincide with your own. 

               That is dangerous. 

               And, as Peter said, this doesn’t just limit who is included and who isn’t.  It also limits God immensely.  It says God is incapable of being present with people who believe differently than I do.  It says God is incapable of “saving” those who have their own unique relationship with God.  It says God cannot go beyond the boundaries that we have decided are necessary, perfect, specific. 

               But the conflicts, the fights, the arguments over what one must believe or even what one must do to be a part of the church continue even beyond this.  Putting aside the conversation I had with that woman who visited my last church, there are arguments within our denomination about things that are more practical, rituals, the proper path of faith, like whether a person must be baptized before they take communion.  You know where I stand on this.  I know people who have come to faith through taking communion, through the taking of this bread and this cup and experiencing life and community through those actions.  So, to me, the idea that a person’s faith must follow a prescribed path of baptism first and then communion seems absurd and again limits that faith path, that path to God and the possibilities within those decisions.  We baptize children, but other faith traditions don’t, feeling the person must follow a specific path before they are baptized.  The Presbyterian church requires that baptism be done in community, and that any parent who wants a child baptized must be a member of the church.  We believe that the baptism of an infant is a promise by a community to raise the child in that faith.  And if the parents aren’t members, we can’t very well make that promise to them.  But again, some would argue that if baptism is a symbol of new life, why is this only offered in community?  Some would suggest that we should trust that the parents are making a commitment to raise the kids in the faith, whether we are there to help or not.

               We struggle, just as the early church struggled.  And a lot of that struggle goes beyond beliefs and into the fact that our practices, our rituals, our rites, are meaningful to us.  And they should be meaningful to us.  There is purpose in them, there is history in them.  Just like for the Jews who for thousands of years had practiced the rites of the church, including circumcision, our practices connect us to a long and important history.  I am certain it must have felt that their practices were being discounted, that the meanings were being diminished.  If it was no longer an essential part of their faith that their males be circumcised, what had it meant that they had done this for thousands of years?  What had these practices and rules and structures and rituals been for, if they could so quickly and so completely be discounted in this way?

               For us, too, these conversations carry the same concerns.  In Bible study we had a conversation, for example, about the wording of the Lord’s Prayer.  It is important to many people to use the words that they have always used when saying the Lord’s Prayer.  It connects to a history, a tradition, a ritual that is important.  For me, as you know, it is much more important that the meaning in the prayer be accessible.  So, I choose to use the words of the Ecumenical version of the Lord’s prayer.  These are words that are used in our common language (unlike “art”, “hallowed” and “thy”).  They are words that feel more inclusive of children and the unchurched in our communities.  So, the struggle, the divide remains between the tradition and the deep importance of those rites, and the accessibility and inclusivity of our practices. 

               What is challenging for all of us, and I include myself in this, is to see the next generation do things so differently than we have done them.  And our call is to recognize the deep value in our rites and traditions without making them into idols of their own.  And this is hard.  The call is for us to be able to say, “This has been meaningful and continues to be meaningful for me, but that does not mean that I need to insist on it for those who are coming after me.”  The call is to feel that another person’s choice to do something differently is not necessarily a judgment, a condemnation or even a dismissal of the way that we have done things before.  And that is not easy.  It is not easy for any of us.

               I think about the conversations I’ve had with my own kids, for example, about things like marriage.  Younger people are not getting married as often.  It’s even acceptable now in our culture for a couple to have children together and continue to be in relationship without ever getting married.  Does that mean my marriage is not meaningful?  What about going to church at all?  I know that it has been painful for many that their children don’t go to church.  But the fact that they have a different path or relationship to God is not a dismissal of your path and your relationship to God. 

               The musical Fiddler on the Roof is a musical about this very struggle.  As Reb Tevye said, “Our traditions have kept us balanced for many, many years….Without our traditions we would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof.”  And throughout the musical he continues to hold on to many of his rituals and traditions, even as he must let go of others.  He is faced with the challenge of choosing between his traditions and his relationships with his daughters.  For his first daughter, Tzeitel, he finally allows her to break the tradition of having the Matchmaker choose her husband for her.  She wants to marry the tailor who has been her friend, and finally Tevye allows it, though it hurts him to break tradition.  His second daughter then asks for his blessing on her marriage, and breaks the tradition of even asking the father for his permission to marry.  Tevye struggles with this as well, but eventually accepts that times are changing, that traditions change.  For two of these conflicts, then, he chooses his daughters, letting go, though it is ever so painful for him, of his traditions.  But this his third daughter wants to marry a Christian.  And this breaks too many of his traditions, of his beliefs, of his practices.  He cannot accept it.  The challenge to his traditions pushes him too far.  And in the face of his choice between tradition and even his daughter, he chooses his tradition.  For us, too, we may come to a point where we feel pushed too far.  But we are called to choose love again and again.  And that love means looking for balance, determining what is most important to us, being willing at times to let go, and at other times to rejoice and find comfort in what we know, what is familiar and meaningful to us.  We are called to choose love.  We are called to allow God to bring change within us, both as the church and as individuals.  We are called to sing a new song to the same God.  And sometimes that will mean keeping things the same.  And other times that will mean letting go and allowing change.  Both will be challenges. 

               These are hard conversations.  These are hard conflicts with which we struggle.  But it goes back again to passages such as this, and the invitation we have been given to be open, to let God do the work that God does in ways that may astonish, may challenge, may confront us as well.

               I’ve found myself, as I have struggled with changes my own children have made that have called me to see differently, to be differently, recollecting on the Kahlil Gibran essay on Children (The Prophet. New York: Alfred A Knopf. 1995, p 17)

    "Your children are not your children.

    They are the sons and daughter’s of Life’s longing for itself.

    They come through you but not from you,

    And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

    You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

    For they have their own thoughts.

    You may house their bodies but not their souls,

    For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

    You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

    For life goes not backward nor tarries from yesterday.

    You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

    The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

    Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

    For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."

               The next generation of church, the next generation of believers, the next generation of children will not be like us.  We are called to expand our vision, and to see the ways we actually limit God by trying to keep things the same.  At the same time, I invite you to be gentle with the struggle.  The struggle has always been there.  It has always been real.  It started early on and it continues even now.  The changes do not lessen your value for the ways we have always done things.  The challenges are not judgments on what has been meaningful to you in connecting you with God, with your community and with one another. 

               Tradition and history, meaning and acceptance.  They are all valuable.  We just need to make sure that we are not limiting God in our valuing of either.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.