Grace

1 Corinthians 15:1-26, 51-57

Luke 7:35-50

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!”

               Much of the Corinthians passage for today is focused on end-times, and on being ready for whenever God calls on us, whether that be for a specific action or to face the music of the end of our lives.  But the part that I find myself called to focus on today is a small part of today’s readings.  And that is the passage where Paul says, “last of all he appeared to me, as if I were born at the wrong time.  I’m the least important of the apostles. I don’t deserve to be called an apostle, because I harassed God’s church.  I am what I am by God’s grace, and God’s grace hasn’t been for nothing.  In fact, I have worked harder than all the others—that is, it wasn’t me but the grace of God that is with me.”

               Today I want to talk about that Grace.  Paul feels he has been saved by grace, by which he means the gifts of being chosen, being loved into his true calling, despite how he behaved before, despite whatever he had done or been in his past.  And the result of that grace, the forgiveness and that opportunity to begin again is that he works harder than all the rest, that he gives all of who he is in return and in thanksgiving for all that has been done for him.  The gospel lesson describes a similar situation.  The pharisee feels scandalized that Jesus is allowing the woman to touch him.  I want you to think about who it is that you feel worst about in this world.  What kind of sins do you find most unacceptable?  Murder?  Greed?  Abuse of children?  Rape?  Sex trafficking?  What if someone who did these things was a person being cared for by Jesus?  Being LOVED by Jesus?  How would you feel?  You would probably feel the same way that Simon felt: you would probably feel that if he really understood what that person had done, he would not be kind to him, he would not allow him to interact with him in that way, he certainly wouldn’t touch him or love him.  But Jesus points out that the woman knew he would love her, she had faith that she would be seen, valued, forgiven, honored as a child of God, regardless of her past, regardless of what she had done.  She trusted, had faith, in that grace being offered.  And as a result of that faith and the acceptance of that grace, her gratitude and response and giving was far, far greater than that of those who didn’t feel they had anything major that needed to be forgiven, who did not feel they needed grace, who have no reason to feel grateful for the grace, the forgiveness, the second chances, the opportunities that they have been given. 

               But is it ever really true that the grace we’ve been offered has been small?  It seems to be true that the more we have, the more grace we’ve been offered from the start, the more deeply we forget that everything we have, all of it, in fact comes from grace.  We start believing that we’ve earned what we have.  We forget that it is all grace.

Perhaps this is easier to see in the extremes.  We know, for example, that the Queen of England didn’t do anything to deserve being born into the royal family that would then lead to her being queen.  People who have inherited millions and even billions of dollars have not earned that money.  And those who appear to have “earned” huge amounts of money almost universally do so by stepping on other people.  But all of them forget this.  All of them start feeling entitled to the things they have and believe they have them because they are somehow better than everyone else.  While it may be easier to see in the extreme cases, most of us forget that we, too, are where we are by grace.  All of us at one time or another have been given a chance we didn’t deserve, an opportunity that we didn’t deserve.  Additionally, we did not earn being born into families that could support us through our education and through our lessons.  We did not earn having parents who were able to feed us good food growing up and surround us with caring adults that would be in large part the reasons why we have come as far as we have come and succeeded in the ways in which we have succeeded.  We forget this.  We start to believe that we have more than other people because we are somehow more deserving.  But the cost of that arrogance, the result of that mistaken pride is, first of all, a lack of humility, and secondly, which hurts us to a much greater degree, a depletion of gratitude; and all of that, more often than not, leads to a lack of generosity on our parts as well.  We don’t recognize what we have as grace and so we are stingy with what we believe we have earned, what we believe we deserve.  We don’t remember that all of who we are has been because of the many, many gifts we’ve been given throughout our lives, and so we don’t feel the need to return it, to nurture others in the same ways in which we have been nurtured, to return all of who WE are to God, as the woman in Jesus story gave all of who she was to Jesus.

               Henry Covington, in Mitch Albom’s book, Have a Little Faith  had grown up in deep poverty.  He had grown up in squalor in a tiny apartment with seven other children as well as rats, as well as violence.  He responded to all of that the way most kids do: by retreating into drugs, crime and violence himself.  His crimes became worse and worse, and for some of them he paid with jail time.  He kept finding himself being offered second chances, he got away with a great deal, but he was angry and could not hear or accept the grace that was being offered to him.  But at the point at which he thought he, and more, his wife and child, were going to die, he made the decision to accept the grace of God’s love that was being offered to him.  He made promises that he found impossible not to keep.  He turned his life over to God out of gratitude, became a pastor, took care of the homeless and the poor, lived a life of poverty again because he gave it all back to God.  And he said this, “Amazing grace!..  I coulda been dead…  I shoulda been dead! … I woulda been dead!..  But his grace.  His grace saved a wretch and I was a wretch.  You know what a wretch is?  I was a crackhead, an alcoholic, I was a heroin addict, a liar, a thief.  I was ALL those things.  But then came Jesus. (p 136) “

               I think about what Mitch Albom said in his book and it, too, reflects back on how Simon must have felt, “What would you do if your clergyman told you stories like (what we are told in the book about Henry’s terrible past)?  There was a part of me that admired Henry’s honesty, and part that felt his laundry list of bad behavior should somehow disqualify him from the pulpit.”

               Pastor Henry said, “In the book of Acts, we read the Paul – after his conversion – people distrusted him because he used to persecute the church, but now he praised it.  ‘is this the same guy?  Can’t be!  Nuh-uh.’… it’s amazing how folks can’t see you, ‘cause they want to keep you in that past.  Some of our greatest problems in ministering to people is that they knew us back before we came to the Lord - … the same thing with Paul… they just looked at his past.  And when we’re still looking at ourselves through our past, we’re not seeing what God has done.  What (God) can do!  We’re not seeing the little things that happen in our lives…. You are NOT your past!”  Mitch continued, “did you ever hear a sermon that felt as if it were being screamed into your ear alone?  When that happens, it usually has more to do with you than the preacher.”

               The grace that Henry received made him into the man he became, a man who took homeless people in, not only to the church, but into his own home with his own wife and kids.  He became a man who didn’t take a salary for his work, but just served others with everything he had.  He had experienced an extreme amount of grace, and he returned it by giving his life to God.

               This isn’t as distant from us as you might think.  As most of you know, I am VERY close to a man who grew up with very little… who experienced extreme poverty as a kid, but who is now doing extremely well.  He is one of the most generous people I know.  And I know that this comes from a place of gratitude for the grace of what he has had, what he has gained through a life of challenges.  When he is given anything, he still expresses more gratitude than others.  He remembers, daily, how far he has come.  And he responds to the grace he has been given by giving even more grace, compassion, care and love to those around himself.

               But even when we fail to see the grace that is given to us, it is offered to us, every day in so many ways.  There was a boy who wanted so very much to play baseball well.  But every game he played he was simply unable to hit the ball.  In the very last game, of the very last inning of the season, his turn to bat came when there were already two outs for his team.  When the first ball was pitched, he missed it completely.  Second ball pitched, he missed as well.  Finally, when the third ball was pitched, he got a hit!  But this boy who had tried so hard and wanted so much to do well was so excited when he finally hit the ball, that he ran to third base instead of first and so he got out and lost the game for his team.  He was devastated.  He felt like a failure not only for himself but for his team.  Perhaps the “fair” thing in that situation would have been for his team members, and maybe even especially his coach, to give him a hard time. But instead his couch was waiting for him as he walked back to the dugout area and give him a big hug and said “that was a great hit! Well done.”   

God’s grace is like that.  Jesus tells us that he came not to condemn the world, but to save it.  Well, much of the time, we as a people, we as a country, and even we as individuals, God knows we deserve judgement, anger, condemnation.  We hurt each other, we hurt the earth.  We don’t succeed, most of the time, in loving God above all else, and we fail miserably in loving our neighbors as ourselves.   And yet in the face of that we are offered grace.  We are offered love.  We are offered the opportunities to try again, to do better, to celebrate life and to return it.  We are given the chance to erase the past and start again.  When we can summon gratitude for what we have, when we can remember that truly all we have is through grace, we are usually much more able not only to be grateful, but to be generous and kind to others as well. 

The commentary, “Feasting on the Word”  says that the antidote for hypocrisy is grace. “The unearned favor of God may seem a foreign import to Matthew's demanding Gospel, where a banqueter gets tossed into the outer darkness for showing up in the wrong clothes (22:11-14). Acts have consequences in Matthew, and there is a structure of reward for faithful work done well; but his coin has another side. Matthew's God forgives infinitely (18:21-35). His Jesus will forgive Peter's denials and the disciples' cowardice—will even abide their post-resurrection doubt to entrust them with his message for all the world (26:56, 69-75; 28:16-20). This Jesus keeps loving and loving, despite failings and blemishes.” (Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary - Feasting on the Word – Year A, Volume 4: Season After Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ)).

God first gave us life.  God then gave us families, the beauty of nature, the gifts of the talents and resources we have.  Jesus’ first gift to us was the gift of celebration as he turned water into wine.  God begins by giving us abundance, which is a reflection and an offering of God’s grace. And we respond by giving back, by giving to others, by sharing love and resources and gifts with those around us.

               That is amazing.  That is grace.  It is offered to people we don’t like, it is offered to people we love and it is offered to us.  When we love God, when we come to know God through Jesus, we see a God of grace and we know a God of grace and we are loved by a God of grace. 

A friend of mine had a parishioner at one of his churches who could not sing “amazing grace.”  It turns out the reason was that it was sung at the memorial service of her father who died when she was just a girl.  Every time she heard the song it brought back images and feelings of loss for her.  But before my friend was aware of this, he preached a sermon that told the history of the writing of Amazing Grace.

The composer of the song, John Newton, was the captain of a slave ship when slavery was a profitable and popular occupation.  But after years of leading this slave ship he had a remarkable conversion experience in which he came to believe at a deep level in the grace of Christ and the call for justice and love to all people.  The grace that saved him, the grace the brought him into faith was so transformational to him that, like the woman in today’s gospel story, he quit his work as a slave boat captain.  He went to seminary and became a strong protestor and preacher against the slave trade.  The song, Amazing Grace, is autobiographical.  “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me!  I once was lost, but now am found: was blind but now I see.  Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.  Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come: ‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.  When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.”

               Several weeks after my friend preached this sermon, the now old woman who had not been able to sing Amazing Grace came up to him and said that for the first time in 60 years she had been able to sing that hymn.  And in some way had found a deep healing because of knowing the history of the composition and her now new experience of singing it.  The sharing of stories is often grace too.

               Everything that we have has come to us through grace.  And when we take the time to remember that, to celebrate that, to have gratitude for that, then we can also become more the people God calls us to be: people of compassion, people of gratitude, people of generosity, and mostly, people who in thanksgiving and love for God can turn and offer the same grace that we have been given, to those around us. 

               I want to end by telling a personal story of grace:

               25 years ago I attended a General Assembly which is when our National Presbyterian Church meets every couple years to work through issues and make decisions.  That particular year was another banner year for infighting over issues.  I went to General Assembly and spent most of my time in the chapel praying.  The whole time I was there, there was only one other person who came into the chapel to pray, and she, too, came daily.  The first day we met there we fell into discussion and it became very clear that we were on opposite sides of pretty much any theological debate and in particular those many issues that were on the floor of GA that particular year.  For the first several days this successfully isolated us from each other.  We no longer talked, no longer made eye contact.  But rather we sat on our opposite sides of the chapel each praying earnestly for the other persons’ enlightenment and even redemption.  It would have been easy for me to start seeing her as “the enemy” and as a prime example of a reason why I would have been perfectly fine with our church splitting over some of these issues.  By the last day it was obvious that neither of us had been changed in our stances or opinions by the other person’s prayers. 

               And yet, at the same time, both of us were changed.  Because, by the last day, we sat together and as were both about to leave the chapel to attend the GA session that would decide some of the issues we disagreed so strongly about, we decided instead to spend the time praying out loud together, each respectfully and earnestly caring for one another and for the whole General Assembly as sisters and brothers in faith.  Afterwards we spent some time talking, getting to know one another more personally, hearing each other’s stories.  We came to truly love each other, and in so doing, were able to have more compassion for all of those on the other sides of these issues.  She could no longer be “the enemy”.  She was family, and not someone I could or wanted to push out of “my” church.  This began with grace offered to each of us.  It moved from that into grace that we offered to one another.  And that grace changed us both.  Grace is always offered to us.  All we have to do is accept it in, and that taking of it in can change us completely.  Amen.   

The Spiritual Discipline of Confession

Ephesians 6: 10-20

Luke 22:31-34, 54-62

                For our last sermon on our Lenten series focusing on spiritual disciplines I decided to take on something a bit controversial in our more progressive churches currently, and that is the spiritual discipline of confession.  For some of you it may come as a surprise to hear that this is controversial at all.  After all, we have a prayer of confession each week in our worship service.  For whom, you might ask, is this controversial?  I thought I’d start today by sharing with you some of the problems with this discipline and then moving forward into why I still see this as an important spiritual discipline, though one that I believe probably needs to be “tweaked” a bit in how we practice it.

                As I’ve shared with you before, for many of us, especially women, though this is an increasing issue for men as well, our biggest “sin” – or to put it in language that may be more meaningful to you – the biggest thing that separates us from God, is our guilt and shame.  I want you to think about this for a minute.  How many of you have ever been awoken in the middle of the night tormented by memories of things you’ve done that you wish you’d done differently?  How many of you are haunted by memories of shameful events or times?  A friend of mine said to me once, “I know that God loves me.  I know this.  But I have come to the place in my being where that love is not enough.  I am acutely aware that I have disappointed God; that I have not and cannot live up to God’s hopes and expectations for me.  God is not proud of me.  God is disappointed in me.  Knowing that God loves me, if anything, adds to the pain when I realize I don’t deserve it.  God loves me in spite of myself, not because of myself.  How can I possibly continue to live with God’s disappointment?”  Honestly, have any of you felt this way?  Have any of you been so filled with a sense of unworthiness, of guilt, of failure that you feel God’s disappointment to be overwhelming?  How would you then respond to my friends’ comments? 

Hildegarde de Bingen, who was, among other things, a Christian mystic, wrote, “A divine voice spoke to me, saying, ‘How fragile you are, Human, made of dust and grime, but I am the living Light.  I make the darkness day, and I have chosen you to see great wonders, though I have humbled you on earth.  You are often depressed and timid, and insecure.  Because you are conscientious, you feel guilty… But the deep mysteries of God have saturated you, too, and so has humility.’ When I heard the Voice, I began trying to live a godly life.  The path became difficult as I questioned myself again, saying, ‘This is pointless.’ I wanted to soar. I dreamed impossible dreams and started projects I could never finish.  I became dejected, so I sat and did nothing.  My self-doubt is my greatest disobedience.  It makes me miserable, and I struggle with this cross daily. “

Andy Kort wrote about his struggle with his five year old son who, in preparing for Santa Claus and thinking about the “bad” list and the “Good list” tearfully and desperately asked his dad if he was bad.  He wrote, “During lent we read from Psalm 51, ‘Indeed I have been wicked from my birth, a sinner from my mother’s womb,’ and I wonder how many, like (my son) are wondering to themselves, ‘Am I bad?’  Our book of Common Worship has the congregation pray in funerals, ‘We confess that we are unworthy of your gracious care.’ (We talk) about our inability to avoid and give into temptation, about our human weakness, our total depravity, our habitual practice of placing so many things before God.  How many are thinking, ‘Am I bad?’  To each child of God who, like (my son), may tearfully melt to the floor in guilt, shame and sadness, I want to say, ‘No Beloved.  Of course not!  You are so very, very good.’  I think God would agree.”

Our faith tells us that God created us good, but many churches emphasize our sinfulness to the point where it shuts us down, keeps us away from God (because who wants to be focusing on what is wrong with them all the time), stunts us by our fears of doing wrong, of carrying more guilt and shame, by our sense of being unworthy and our inability therefore to even try.  This is a big problem with our emphasis on confession.

Another big problem is that there are other metanarratives in scriptures.  There is the central and important story of God saving God’s people from slavery.  There is the key story of the exiles being returned home.  These relate to us as well – what are we enslaved to that only God can help us with?  In what way are we exiles searching for home?  But these metanarratives do not get a lot of air time, while we focus on the story of grace and forgiveness weekly.  Shouldn’t these other stories be given some of the attention and time we give to focusing on our mistakes?

But all that being said, there are also good reasons for confession, and I want to discuss those with you this morning, too.  First of all, in our church, the practice of confession is meant to be an exercise in letting go of guilt feelings.  It is meant to be a time when we can lift up the pain and struggles that haunt us, offer them to God, and then release them so that they no longer oppress us or keep us from being our best selves.  The prayer, and along with it the assurance of pardon, is meant to be a time of grace and healing. 

But there is even more to it than that.  We are called to follow in Christ’s footsteps, to be a light to the world, to overcome oppression and hate, to fight evil with love.  Today’s passage from Ephesians tells us: “For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil…”  We have discussed evil before, and how many spiritual leaders tell us that true evil comes from that place of being unable to face parts of ourselves, putting those parts out there onto others and working then to destroy them.  We see, for example, that the people who are most violent towards LGBTQ+ folk usually are people who are unsure about their own sexual identity but cannot face that within themselves and so put it out there, declare it wrong and work to destroy it by destroying others who are clear about their sexual identity.  Those who fight “bullying” by killing others have likewise turned something within themselves and put it out there and in trying to destroy it have done true evil.  I think of the book, To Kill a Mockingbird, in which a family could not face the girl’s wanting of the African American man and could not face the father’s deeply and repeated abusive behavior and so they projected it out onto the innocent and destroyed the African American man.

  We are called into a battle against evil.  I know that’s an uncomfortable word for many of us, but destroying others, physically, emotionally and spiritually IS evil.  That’s a word we have to be willing to look at, face and deal with if we want to be true to our call to follow God and to be light in the world.  And the first place we have to start that battle is within ourselves.  What are the shadow parts of ourselves, the uncomfortable parts of ourselves that we are afraid to look at, to face, to own, to name?  Granted, not everyone avoids self-reflection.  But, just as with guidance, in which we are called to recognize that we do not always hear the voice of the Spirit clearly by ourselves, we do not always see the things we are avoiding within ourselves without the help of others.      

The prayer of confession then, along with the assurance of pardon, is an attempt, an effort, to help us to look at things we might not otherwise see.  To name and face parts of ourselves that we might not otherwise look at with any seriousness.  It is also an invitation to reconcile with God as well as within ourselves and with other people around those things that we do not want to face and name.

                In some other Christian traditions, including the Orthodox Church, confession and absolution together are considered a sacrament because they convey the grace of God.  Together, they are a sacred way of connecting with God, because together they have the potential to change and transform people.   Twelve step programs also recognize the transformative power of confession, acceptance of grace and reconciliation with others.  Steps 4 through 7 of the twelve steps focus on exactly this.

•             Step 4 - Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves

•             Step 5 - Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs

•             Step 6 - Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character

•             Step 7 - Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings

•             Step 8 - Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all

•             Step 9 - Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others

•             Step 10 - Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it

 Over half of the 12 steps are focused on figuring out our mistakes, confessing them not just to God but to another human being, accepting God’s grace and ability to help us repent and then doing the work of repenting  – making amends for our mistakes, correcting them and turning in another direction.  There is a deep understanding through 12-step programs of the incredible healing and release that comes in facing our own “demons”, our own mistakes, our own hurtful behavior: facing it, naming it, repenting of it, fixing it.

As you know, in the Presbyterian Church we don’t do private confessions to another person.  Instead we confess corporately in our weekly prayers.  And there is good reason for this.  We recognize in this way that we fall short not only as individuals but as a body as well.  Additionally, we don’t have confessors because we recognize that pastors are just the same as everyone else.  Pastors are not “priests” in the Presbyterian Church who are believed to be more holy than the rest of the people.  We are members of the body as are all other members of the body, we are people like everyone else.  We have a call to teach in the church, as you have a call to do your work in the church and in the world.  Our call is not more important, more valued or more sacred.  Therefore, we do not get to claim status as your confessors.

However, there is a downside to this way of doing confession.  In confessing corporately, we often fail to internalize or really take inner stock of how it applies to us.  We don’t take ownership of what is really ours because we aren’t connecting, for one reason or another, with the corporate prayer, and we aren’t naming specific things.  In reading a corporate prayer of confession I wonder how much it really calls us into honest self-reflection.  Additionally, we then also fail to accept the forgiveness that allows genuine change, repentance and reconciliation with one another.  If we have not been truly and deeply honest about our shadow sides, we also will not be able to truly and deeply accept the grace and transforming forgiveness that is offered.  I know for myself, admitting to another human being what I have done wrong makes it real at a whole other level.  It also holds me more accountable for “fixing” the problem.  If someone else knows what I’m working to change within myself, then that other person can help me to stay accountable for apologizing, making amends, “repenting” and fixing what I’ve done.  While pastors are not priests, finding another person with whom you can partner – a “sponsor” as they are called in twelve step programs does help us to keep accountable.  It is one of the ways we can fight the “powers of darkness”  - by naming them, naming their influence on us weekly, and rejecting them through repentance and reconciliation.  Again, this is more than just saying we are wrong, it is accepting the grace of forgiveness at the deepest level, allowing that grace to free us to begin again, to open us to be transformed.

In most Presbyterian Churches our prayer of confession and assurance of forgiveness is followed by the passing of the peace.  Our Presbyterian Book of Order says this about the passing of the peace is:  “It is important in worship that we take the opportunity to seek and to offer forgiveness for hurts, misunderstandings and broken relationships among ourselves and that we respond to God’s act of reconciliation by exchanging signs and words of reconciliation and of Christ’s peace through the passing of the peace.”  (2.6001b)  So what does this mean?  The passing of the peace is a mending–of-hurts time, an act of forgiveness time, a reconciliation time.  In other words, the people we might approach during this time should be those with whom we feel the need for reconciliation, or for offering or seeking forgiveness.  You can pass the peace on to others as well, but it is as a sign that God forgives and reconciles everyone, and is not a “greeting time”.    It is supposed to follow the prayer of confession and acceptance of God’s grace because it is a sign that we have taken to heart God’s grace and now want to pass that on to each other.  And for this it is a wonderful gift to one another that we can touch and recognize the grace that is physically given to us.

One of my previous parishioners once asked me what they were supposed to do, then, if there was no one with whom they needed to reconcile?  They asked how they could pass the peace to their loved ones when they had never hurt them and had no grievances against them?

Well, frankly, I would challenge those statements.  As 1 John 1:8-10 tells us, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.  If we claim we have not sinned, we make God out to be a liar and God’s word is not in us.” There is always something we could have done better in relationship to those around us.  There is always something we could do better in the future.  The peace of Christ acknowledges our humanness and says, “and I love you and trust that you love me, even with all our flaws.”

As I have said each week, the point of each of the spiritual disciplines is to deepen our relationship with God.  The things we do that separate us from God, the acts that are less than loving, the areas of ourselves we don’t see or are uncomfortable facing, the guilt and shame that keep us from acting or working to be our best selves: we are called to name them, to own them, to release them, to change them, and to work for the reconciliation not only of ourselves with God, but of the whole world.  Confession is a piece of that, whether that be the private confessions you share with God or whether it be the corporate confessions we share in this place.  May the sacredness of release and acceptance of grace help transform each of us as well as the world.  Amen.

Sunday's Sermon - When God Shows UP

Luke 8:26-39

1^st Kings 19:1-15a

            As you know, last Sunday morning there was another tragedy, another mass shouting, another attack of hatred and anger and fear, this time not at a school, not on a campus, not in an apartment complex or a mall, but in a gay bar. 49 people died, many others were injured. I would hope and trust that no matter what you believe about anything else, the loss of more lives in yet another act of hatred and anger would be upsetting, would be challenging, would be a cause of pause, for questioning, for looking at how we handle our anger, our fear, our hatred and how we might do all of that differently. When there is more and more violence and more and more hatred and anger and disagreement and political polarization we may find ourselves asking again and again, where is God?  When will God show up?

                        (from Chicken Soup for the Soul):     One cold evening during the holiday season, a little boy about six or seven was standing out in front of a store window.  The little child had no shoes and his clothes were mere rags.  A young woman hurrying by to get home to her own family was none the less caught by the needs of the little boy and the longing she read in his pale brown eyes.  She took the child by the hand and led him into the store.  There she bought him some new shoes and a complete suit of warm clothing.

            They came back outside into the street and the woman said to the child, “Now you can go home and have a very happy holiday.”

            The little boy looked up at her and asked, “Are you God, Ma’am?”

            She smiled down at him and answered, “No, son, I’m just one of God’s children.”

            The little boy then said, “I knew you had to be some relation.”

            --

Larry Green wrote: "When I go through a drive-thru the person taking my order says something like, "does that complete your order?" I always respond by saying, "unless you would like me to buy you something." Usually they will giggle and say they appreciate it, but decline. The young lady today asked, "are you serious?" I told her to add her meal to my order. When I got to the window, there was this young lady with tears streaming down her face. She thanked me profusely and began to tell me her story. Folks, you never know what others are going through. The people taking your order at the fast food place are often working 2-3 jobs just to get by. This young lady was working 3 jobs, pregnant, and was evicted from her apartment yesterday. She now lives in her car. All this info because I bought her a salad ... yes, she ordered herself a salad.”  Larry spent 45 minutes with her, giving her community resources, listening, feeding her in spirit as well as body.  And I am certain that in that time, Larry was God showing up for this woman.

So it seems it can be when God shows up: unexpected beauty in the midst of what can feel like chaos and confusion. Sometimes it can also feel like chaos and confusion in the midst of what has become “normal” for us as well, though.  For when God shows up, is it ever in the way we expect?  Is it ever with the message we expected or thought that we hoped to hear? 

Today we have two biblical stories.  Both of which show us God showing up in unexpected and unsought ways.

In the first story, Elijah is running away. And when he finally stops and faces God, he asks for God to end his life.   He says - “It is enough.  Now, O Lord, take away my life.”  But instead of God answering his death wish with a “yes” God tells him instead that he has a long, hard journey ahead of him. Just what Elijah wants to hear, I’m certain. But Elijah does what he is told - he eats to prepare for the journey and goes to the place where he is to meet God. And then we are told again, that God does not show up in the way we might expect. Do we expect God in the noise, in the rush, in the moving around? We are told God was not in the wind. Do we expect God in the big shakes, in the natural movements? We are told God was not in the earthquake. Do we expect God in the fire that guides us, giving us heat, energy, light, warmth, passion? We are told God was not in the fire. Where does God show up?  In the sheer and complete silence. In the stillness. In the calm after the storm. 

This story in 1^st Kings reminded me of C.S. Lewis’ book, “A Grief Observed.”  C.S. Lewis, as many of you know, was a remarkable Christian author who wrote both novels such as the Narnia series as well as theological conversations such as “The Four Loves” and “Surprised by Joy”.  In 1945 he experienced the death of a close friend.  About this death he said, “The experience of loss (the greatest I have yet known) was wholly unlike what I should have expected.  We now verified for ourselves what so many bereaved people have reported; the ubiquitous presence of a dead man, as if he had ceased to meet us in particular places in order to meet us everywhere...” he continued, “No event has so corroborated my faith in the next world as Williams did simply by dying.  When the idea of death and the idea of Williams thus met in my mind, it was the idea of death that was changed.” 

But 15 years later, in 1960, his wife of very few years, Joy, died. And that experience was also unexpected for him - but in the complete opposite way. As he said in the journal he kept following her death, “After the death of a friend...I had for some time a most vivid feeling of certainty about his continued life; even his enhanced life. I have begged to be given even one hundredth part of the same assurance about Joy. There is no answer. Only the locked door, the iron curtain, the vacuum, absolute zero.” And in contrast to the experience of the presence of his friend’s death changing his faith for the better, after the death of his wife, his faith was tested beyond measure.  As he continued, “go to (God) when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain and what do you find?  A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside.  After that, silence.  You may as well turn away.  The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become.  There are no lights in the windows.  It might be an empty house...not that I am in much danger of ceasing to believe in God.  The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him.  The conclusion I dread is not, ‘So there’s no God after all,’ but, ‘So this is what God’s really like.  Deceive yourself no longer.” Deeply disturbing words of pain and despair from a deeply faithful man.  Have any of you ever felt that way?

God’s coming, or seeming lack of coming is very rarely what we expect. 

And so it was in the second scripture we read for today, of the Gerasene demoniac.  For the people around the healed man, God’s coming was nothing less than terrifying. They didn’t, perhaps they couldn’t, understand or know how to take the change that had come over the man healed of the demons. Before he had been naked, an outcast, sometimes so strong with his infirmity as to break the chains that people put on him to bind him, to confine him. While the people may have feared him before, at least they felt they understood him. They knew what to expect. They knew of his violent and odd behavior and they knew how to deal with it: bind him or let him live away from them among the tombs. But Jesus’ healing of the man threw all that they knew into confusion. The man seemed normal now. Would it last? The man was changed. Would Jesus change them as well? Not only was the man different, but a herd of pigs had gone crazy, and gone into the water and died. Scary things were happening, things they didn’t understand and they were afraid. 

And how much more so for the man himself, for the man possessed by the demons.  He had cried out to Jesus for Jesus to leave him alone. For the only thing he knew was his demons, how to live with them, how to survive with them. Never mind that his existence was miserable and that he went between being tied up with chains and being isolated and living naked without protection in the tombs. This was what he knew. But just as God did not agree to Elijah’s request for death, God did not agree to this man’s request to stay stuck with his demons. He healed him, and again, while we can only imagine and trust that the man’s life was better after that, just like for Elijah, this man was invited in his healing to enter a long hard journey. He wanted to go with Jesus after he was healed. But that would have been safe. He could have hidden his past, hidden his change behind Jesus’ loving protection.  But Jesus called for something else for this man, something more.   Instead, this prayer, too was turned down with a “no” and he was told he was to stay.  He was called to the hard, hard challenge of staying and telling his story and trying to live his life amongst those who had known him, starting again, starting anew. 

I think we can probably relate to the fear of having our demons healed.  For we all have demons.  Some are more serious than others - alcoholism, and other addictions, mental illness, these are the serious ones.  But there are others that aren’t as obvious, or don’t feel as serious. 

A “victim” complex, a struggle with low self-esteem, a struggle with food addictions or a bad relationship with spouse, child, sibling. As much as we may experience those demons as burdens, we also depend on them. What would it be like to live without them?  How would we reenter the world, changed, if they were suddenly lifted, suddenly gone?  How do we live without our crutches, without that which is most familiar?  But God comes.  And God comes unexpectedly.  And sometimes, we are asked to be different, to be healed, to live without the demons and situations we know.

If we are willing to live through the hard times, to accept the gifts of change that God brings, if we are willing to take the risk of healing and being new in God’s way, God’s coming is always better than we can imagine.

C. S. Lewis, too, got through his “dark night of the soul.”  He got through the confusion and struggles with his faith that he had after his wife’s death.  His faith was never the same: for it had entered a new level and reached a depth he never dreamt of before.  It had been tested, and it had come out new.  As he said, “I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted.  Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face?  The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can’t give it: you are like the drowning man who can’t be helped because he clutches and grabs.  Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to heard.”  And from that place of reconnection he continued simply but powerfully, “I know the two great commandments, and I’d better get on with them.” 

So where is God when refugees like the Syrians are feeling their homes?  Where is God in the earthquakes that have rocked Japan and Ecuador? Where is God when people are beaten up or killed because of their skin color or their faith beliefs or their sexuality? And where was God last weekend? We have to look for God in the unexpected. With the escaping Syrians, God is with those families who have taken them in, who have offered care and love and home and support.  Where is God in Japan and Ecuador? Also with the people coming to help with their resources and their love and their thinking through how to make communities safer in the face of earthquakes.  And last weekend, God was with the communities that came together after the tragedy, hundreds of folk lining up to donate blood, to grieve together, to support each other, to plan, and to imagine the possibilities of a world that functions differently, without the violence of hate and anger and fear. Where is God? God is wherever love is. God is wherever that love becomes an active verb, working for the good of the other, sometimes at our own expense. God is wherever people are willing to take risks to care for those who are rejected by the larger world, just as Jesus cared for and loved the Syrophoenicians and the Samaritans and the women with bad reputations and the tax collectors. God is wherever we dare to love in that same way. We are called to follow Jesus and go out to love God and love one another. After each meeting with the unexpected God, we will enter life in a new way, but still with the call to love.  We, too, know the two great commandments.  And we, too had better get on with it. Where is God?  Where we are doing God’s work. That’s what it’s all about.  Amen.

Scammers abound

I received a friend request on Facebook from someone I'd never heard of.  We had no friends in common and I couldn't place him, so I just deleted it.  That happens once a month or so.  No big deal. Just requires a delete.  We know they are scammers and we just delete and sometimes "report" them. A couple weeks later, today, the same person (or someone(s) using the same name) contacted me through google plus.  I still don't know him, still have no friends in common that I can tell. This time he was required to leave a message of some kind and the message he left was, "hi barbara....i must confess you really look amazing.hope we could femiliarize sometime."

Uh huh. According to his google plus profile he's an ad consultant in San Francisco.  I don't know how he found me.  I don't know what in that tiny little blurry picture of me on the beach that serves as my google plus image and does not show my face with any kind of clarity would look "amazing".  If he had read anything I'd written, he would know that I don't really care about looks that much anyway and would be much more likely to respond had he commented on something I had written. I'm not interested in being "picked up" by a stranger, and even in that situation I would prefer being admired for my thoughts or strength, for my faith, for ... well for anything other than looks. Additionally, I would assume that ad consultants would need more than a basic understanding of the English language...how to use words as well as how to spell them.  Maybe I'm wrong here, but since I've never seen the word "familiarize" used in this way before, let alone spelled in that interesting way, I'm guessing he is not "for real."  He probably lives somewhere outside of the United States (I read that most of the pick up scam artists going after women are in Nigeria, and most of the pick up scam artists going after men are from Russia...don't know if it's true, but it would explain the interesting "accents").  "He" is probably a team of folk taking turns working these scams (another article I read).  And this is how they make their living, sending notes and forming "relationships" with single women only to have a 'grandmother suddenly die which means they need money, just to borrow temporarily, for the burial and for the...', or 'I have money to give you, just give me all your bank information and I will deposit it in your account."

I have to admit that if I wasn't afraid he might be dangerous or that opening a message from him might open much more to my computer and my life than I could handle, I would be curious.  I would be curious to see how the scammer operated.  I would be curious to see what kind of tactics he thought he could use to scam me out of money I don't actually have, or whatever it is that he wants. I also have to admit that I would enjoy being flattered and charmed and kissed up to.  I know what I have to give, and what I don't have.  I wouldn't be scammed that easily.  These scammers don't seem very sophisticated so I think I'd have a pretty good chance of outwitting them.  I'm the person who goes to the 90 minute "time share" sale and walks away with nothing.  I'm the one who can spend all day at the Home and Garden show or at the County Fair and not buy a thing.  "No" is easy for me when it comes to spending money or giving personal information such as my mother's maiden name, my kids' names or my social security number.  I am not afraid of that.  I am afraid of opening an email that opens up viruses on my computer or exposes my children to risk in some other way.

But either way: no.  I have too much integrity to play that game.  Still I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious...

However, more than curious, I found myself sad.  I am sad that there are people who do this to other human beings.  I am sad that there is such a need that some people believe the only way they can make money is to use and abuse others.  And I am deeply sad that there are enough desperate and lonely people out there who would respond to something like this that choosing to act this way has become a lucrative career choice.  At some level I guess all of us are lonely.  At some level I think most of us would like a "friend" who flatters and charms us.  It isn't worth the cost, and it is a lie, not a real friendship, but I get the appeal, I understand the pull to respond to an invitation like this.

So in the face of this, what can we do?  I think it is a call for all of us to reach out more to those who are lonely.  The best way to prevent something like this from happening is to offer people real relationships instead, to be present and loving even to those who are "unappealing", to search for the human core in every one that unites us and makes each of us valuable and worthy of being loved. Rather than feeling sad that people give in to these scams, we can actively work to prevent their success just by offering friendship to those who are lonely.  It starts with a smile and a "how are you?"  Not so very hard.  And we may find ourselves blessed through the effort, making a friend with depths we didn't imagine, growing in getting to know people who are different from us.  That, I think, is an effort worth making.

Sunday's Sermon - Those who aren't against us

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10, 9:20-22

Mark 9:38-50

A woman was walking across a bridge one day, and she saw a man standing on the edge, about to jump off.

So she ran over and said "Stop! Don't do it!"

"Why shouldn't I?" he said.

"Well, there's so much to live for!"

"Like what?"

"Well... are you religious?" He said yes.

She said, "Me too! Are you Christian or Buddhist?"

"Christian."

"Me too! Are you Catholic or Protestant?

"Protestant."

"Me too! Are you Presbyterian or Baptist or…?"

"Presbyterian"

"Wow! That’s amazing.  Me too!  Are you Presbyterian USA or Presbyterian Church of America?”

“Presbyterian Church of America”

To which she responded, "Die, heretic scum", and pushed him off the bridge.

Drawing lines in the sand.  I think all of us are pretty good at that.  It seems to be a natural part of being human to divide our world into us and them.  In sports there is my team, their team; the San Francisco Giants or the Oakland A’s. You can’t support both. In terms of colleges where I came from there was Cal or Stanford. In products there’s Coke or Pepsi. Among our churches, there are Catholics and Protestants. And among Protestants there are divisions and divisions. But even more, there is a growing divide between the evangelical/fundamentalist Christians and the Progressive Christians. The divide is becoming so wide that I sometimes wonder if we actually worship the same God at all. Similarly, politically we are becoming so much more polarized in terms of conservatives and liberals, democrats and republicans.  And there, too, it would almost seem we have two (or more) different understandings of what our country should be, could be and is.

Once we have identified ourselves with a particular group, we can become very rigid and careful guardians of what we feel is “ours.”  We can become very protective of keeping what we know “pure” or “the best.” People side with “their own” even when they actually wouldn’t if left on their own. Even the most open of us fear change and can act that out with rigid boundaries between ourselves in the groups of which we are a part and those outside the group.  We can become possessive of our size “we want to keep this small,” our projects “our committee is taking care of that,” our out-looks, and the credit we get for certain activities.  Once we’ve formed our loyalties, we can limit others joining us, but then find ourselves jealous when those others do similar things to what we do, even if they are good things.  As children, “cliques” form that are often rigid and exclusive and if one of those cliques decides to join a particular sport or compete in a particular activity, any other group who does the same might be called “copy cat” and the strictest social pressures can be put on the second group to stop “copying.”

As adults our possessiveness and our jealousies may be more subtle, but they can be even more harmful.  In the church especially, the Us vs Them mentality can be destructive. 

In one area where I lived, the Presbyterian church in town began a soup kitchen to help the hungry.  As part of their program, each person who was being fed was required to sit through a half hour sermon before they could eat. The Methodists from the church down the street took issue with the way the Presbyterians were handling the situation. They felt that as Christians they were called to feed people without pushing faith and that the best way they could serve Christ was by giving without expecting anything in return, showing God’s love through example. So they opened their own soup kitchen. In addition, a third soup kitchen was set up about the same time by the Lutherans. The Lutherans didn’t preach to their hungry, but they did ask each “guest” to contribute a token quarter per meal. They believed that this gave back to each person a piece of their dignity because they were “paying” for their meal and it was an exchange; not just charity.  Well the Presbyterians were outraged because the Methodists “took” all of their hungry away, without giving them the “opportunity” to hear about God.  The Lutherans were angry because they felt giving someone something for nothing took away a hungry person’s dignity.  Everyone was serving in the name of Christ, but it became a large and divisive problem between the churches; each church competing for the ability to serve the community by feeding the hungry.

There is a popular story about a church that was in an area where there were an abundance of homeless people. The members of the church were uncomfortable around these people, and so using the excuse of “safety” did not allow any of the homeless people in to worship.  One of these homeless women, Sally, thought the church was beautiful, and she wanted so desperately to worship there one morning that she tried to sneak in a window.  When she was found, she was carefully escorted out the back.  She approached the pastor during the week and begged to be allowed to come and worship in the church.  After meeting sometime with the session, the pastor finally decided on a plan.  The pastor found Sally and said to her, “Sally, I’ll tell you what.  You go and pray to God and if God wants you here, he’ll find a way to make you look clean enough that the members of our church won’t be afraid of you, and you can come worship here as long as you like.”  While Sally prayed and prayed, she was never made “presentable” enough for the church members.  But one of those times during prayer, Sally experienced a vision in which God said to her, “Don’t worry, my child, about that church.  They won’t let me in either.”

There is something very comforting about drawing lines in the sand.  I believe it helps us define who we are. We define ourselves in part against others, we know ourselves as much by what we are not as by what we are. It can therefore be helpful to have a clear sense of who is on our side and who is not, what we do and believe that is different from what others do and believe.  It is for this reason that as a denomination we struggled for awhile against joining other denominations in the Council of Churches United, otherwise known as COCU, which later became CUIC – Churches Uniting in Christ.  The purpose of CUIC was that we can, as a larger body, do more to help serve the world and each other than we can as individual churches.  But many in our denominations feared that we would lose our distinction and our identity in joining CUIC, they also fought over things like bishop succession and laying on of hands. There were hard and difficult fights against uniting with other Christian churches, all proclaiming Jesus as their Lord and Savior.

As a denomination we also struggle to determine what view points and behaviors are

“acceptable” as we continue to define who we are as Presbyterians.  One of the ways we do this is by drawing lines around our leadership. You know that we’ve fought passionately over whether or not gay and lesbian persons could be included in ordained ministry.  We’ve also fought over what is required in terms of studying. In our church certain tasks have been reserved for people who have gone through the arduous required process proceeding ordination as minister of Word and Sacrament. Those who have studied for three to four years beyond college in a seminary, who have learned both Hebrew and Greek, who have passed both oral and written ordination exams and who have had a committee interrogating them for several years as well, these people have the opportunity of becoming ministers of the Word and Sacrament. But as you may know there has been a movement in the last fifteen to twenty years to allow lay folk; people who have not gone through all of this process, to do more and more of what pastors alone have been doing.  This movement towards allowing more non-clergy more power has moved very slowly.  I can understand why.  Perhaps these lay folk would not teach correct Presbyterian theology.  Perhaps they would not interpret or understand scripture in an educated, helpful way.  Perhaps they would lead people astray. Isn’t it important that they be educated in the way we want them to be educated? But underneath the perhapses I believe, is the investment of the clergy and the fear of what it would mean to “include” others.  We had to learn Hebrew and Greek, we had to take the exams.  We spent four plus years in school and sweated through difficult and challenging classes.  It doesn’t seem fair if someone else gets to serve and be recognized as a pastor without having to go through all the hoops that the rest of us went through. 

It is a similar situation that we see presented in today’s gospel reading.  The disciples had discovered that through their relationship to Jesus they had been given the ability to heal, or cast out demons.  It was an extraordinary gift, and it drew many people into Jesus’ following.  But on this particular occasion the disciples came across someone else who also had the healing power and who also was given the gift, the ability to cast out demons.  The disciples were upset.  While this other exorcist was helping people in the name of God, even in the name of Jesus, he was not “with” them.  He was not one of Jesus’ disciples.  Perhaps he would gain his own following.  Perhaps he would lead people to believe or do things differently than Jesus was teaching.  Perhaps...But it was not just the perhaps.  He was not one of them.  The disciples were a team, a family.  As individuals each of the disciples had given up everything they had to follow Jesus.  They had left their work, their homes and their families.  I’m sure they felt it was unfair for this other man to get credit for healing and helping when he was not having to also give up everything to follow Jesus.  But at the same time, the disciples also didn’t invite him to join their group.  Instead they felt this other exorcist had to be stopped.

But Jesus did not uphold their line in the sand.  Jesus was constantly about widening circles of inclusion rather than limiting them.  His inclusion of people deemed totally unacceptable to his society was very hard for the people around him to understand and accept.  He was discredited by the pharisees and scribes for including sinners and outcasts of all kinds in his following; prostitutes, tax collectors, Samaritans.  He accepted them, loved them and included them.  Each time Jesus widened the circle of inclusion, the disciples too, not just the pharisees and scribes, but the disciples, were troubled, challenged.  Who were they as disciples when the lines were so unclear?  What was most difficult for the disciples was that Jesus’ love and acceptance was not conditional upon a person’s changing.  Sometimes his love then allowed others to change, but his caring was not dependent on that change.  How were the disciples to keep Jesus’ following pure and distinct if Jesus loved and accepted even those who were sinners?  Who were they as disciples and why did they give up all they had to follow Jesus if Jesus loved and included even outcasts? 

Still, Jesus gently challenged them.  “Let him be,” Jesus said.  “Let him heal, let him cast out demons.  Let him do what we do and be part of who we are, even as he is separate.  I ask you to accept that since he is not against us, he is FOR us.  This other exorcist whom you do not know and who has not joined me in the way that you have is still part of my body, the church.  Draw your circles wider; let those who are different but who are doing my work of healing and loving, let them in. Through serving in this way, they too will grow in God’s way.”

We continue to struggle with the dividing lines, we continue to want to decide for God who is in and out.  Yet it is in our unity, in our inclusion that we are able to most fully do God’s work.  The Church that refused to let the homeless worship missed an incredible opportunity to serve, to learn, to grow with their homeless brothers and sisters.  The three churches competing over the soup kitchens could have worked together rather than against each other in order to do more than just feeding.  Their lines of division limited their vision and resources.  But together they might have been able to provide shelter, showers, maybe even jobs.  So too with CUIC.  In joining with other churches in mission, we could do so much more to serve God’s world than we can as individual denominations. And so too in the case of lay persons who seek to do more pastoral work. The ordination process we have does not allow for many Native American churches, rural churches and smaller churches to have pastors, it does not allow people who are not good test takers, or who cannot financially afford years of schooling to become leaders in the church.  Also, in our rigidity, we are setting stumbling blocks for people who are striving to come closer to God. These lines in the sand hurt us as a church, and they limit our ability to serve God.

Once again I hear Jesus’ words, spoken to Christians, spoken to the Presbyterian Church, spoken to me and to you, “Those who are not against us are FOR us.  Let the other exorcists be and do their work.  In doing my work, they can only grow in their faithfulness.”  We are all God’s children.  Together we are the body of Christ, empowered to change the world, empowered to exorcise every demon.  Draw your circles wider, for God’s kingdom has no limit, no end, and God’s love is for everyone.

Sunday's Sermon - What Comes Out

What Comes

Song of Solomon 2:8-13

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

8/30/15

         “Nothing outside of a person can enter and contaminate a person in God’s sight; rather, the things that come out of a person contaminate the person.”  I found myself thinking about this passage a great deal over the last few weeks, especially as I was confronted, again and again, with values that are different than what our faith teaches. 

I began thinking around this when I noticed a magazine cover in the grocery store that said this, “Hair, sex, money, happiness” and then under all of that in bold letters it said “Goals”.  And as I stared at this magazine cover, as I reflected on the popular TV programs and the ads that sprinkle through those TV programs, as I thought about conversations overheard in the parent night at the kids’ schools and in the grocery store, I realized those really are the goals for so many in our society.  Hair (or appearance), Sex (or physical pleasure of any kind), Money and Happiness - maybe even in that order.  Some people believe that the first three lead to the last – happiness.  But I’m no longer convinced that even Happiness is the goal our faith sets for ourselves.  Jesus never said, “Do whatever it takes to be happy.”  Instead he said, “Pick up your cross and follow me.”  Picking up one’s cross does not make one happy.  It may bring joy, the joy of meaning, the joy of connecting with God.  But happy?  No.  Being willing to die out of love for our neighbors is not about being happy.

The truth is, being happy is an American value.  It is not a Christian one.  I want to repeat that.  Happiness is not a Christian goal.  Still, I want to be clear.  This doesn’t mean that we won’t find happiness or that we shouldn’t be grateful for life.  But the fact is that setting happiness as the goal often has the reverse result of the one we want it to have.  When we think we should be happy, when we think being happy is the goal, it is in fact harder to be happy.  I’ve shared this before in a blog post for those who read my blog, but a good friend of mine was born and raised in Holland.  And one of the things that she pointed out to me years ago was that people in other countries tend to be much more content, much more joyful, much happier than people in the United States.  And one of the reasons for this is simply that we who were raised here tend to expect life to be happy and easy and fair.  My friend told me that in other countries people don’t expect ease or justice or happiness.  They expect that life will be hard.  But because of that, they take the gifts of life, the good things that happen to them, each one, as exactly that – an unexpected gift that they then enjoy and appreciate with much greater depth.  When things go wrong, they just expect that so they shrug it off.  It’s life.  That’s what life is, no big deal.  But when things go right?  That’s unexpected and amazing and wondrous and to be celebrated.  In contrast, here in the United States we are constantly bombarded with the messages, “you deserve this!”  “Claim your happiness!”  “It’s all there right for you!”  “If you think positively, it will be yours!”  “You deserve to be pampered and spoiled and happy.”  And as a result, when things go wrong, which they will because that is life, we can’t handle it.  We think it’s unfair and not right.  And when things go well, since we believe that’s is how it is supposed, we don’t appreciate it. 

               But the point I want to make here is that whatever it is that we value, those values truly define what we become, who we are and how we act.      Thomas Merton put it this way, “a life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all.  No one can serve two masters.  Your life is shaped by the end you live for.  You are made in the image of what you desire.”  Thomas Merton was really quoting Jesus when Jesus said it like this, “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be loyal to the one and have contempt for the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

So, if what you desire is, like the magazine declared, “hair, sex, money and happiness,” your life will demonstrate those values.  Your resources will be aimed towards achieving and obtaining those things, and therefore that is how you will spend your time, your money, your energy. 

             But as I said at the beginning, these are not the things that Jesus calls us to value.  We know what Jesus calls us to value:  The passage in James put it like this, “True devotion, the kind that is pure and faultless before God the Parent is this: to care for orphans and widows in their difficulties and to keep the world from contaminating us.”  Micah said it this way, “What does the Lord require of you but to love kindness, to do justice and to walk humbly with God.”  In John, Jesus said it like this, “Love one another.  By this you will be known to be my disciples, if you love one another.”  And in the other three gospels Jesus said it more simply still:  “Two commandments I give you: to love God with all your heart, soul and mind. And to love your neighbor as yourself.” 

When we fail to do those things, that is when we “defile” ourselves.  It is not what goes in, it is what comes out of a person.  It is what a person says, it is what a person does, it is how a person behaves, which says everything about who we ultimately are.  The Pharisees had a lot of rules, they were good at following those rules.  But when it came to actually caring for the people who were most in need, they did not follow God’s will or obey what God asked them to do.  Their lives reflected their values.  They valued church authority.  They valued the rules.  They valued a hierarchy and a ranking of people that allowed them to appear superior, righteous, above others.  And in turn, they treated those who they did not “rank” as equal with disdain and without compassion.  Their behavior defiled them.  If you really want to know what a person’s like, what they value and therefore who they really are, take a good look at how they treat those they consider inferior, not those they consider equals.  That poor treatment of those who have less, those who appear inferior, that is what defiles.

               I have a story to tell you that is really more about education and educators than about being a good follower of Christ.  But I think it is appropriate since we just began school this week, and also because I think it, too illustrates the point I’m trying to make:

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided her best option in life was to become a teacher?" To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?"

Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began...)

"Well, I make students work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.  I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an IPod, Xbox or netflicks.

You want to know what I make? (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table). I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.  I make them care about serving other people.  They use their God given brain, and they learn that their brain was made to love and grow in understanding. I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe and respected.

Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts God gave them, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life…

(Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)

Then, when people try to judge me by what kind of salary I make, with me knowing money isn’t everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because. …. You want to know what I make?  I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.”

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               What do we value?  Do we value the things we are taught by our culture to value?  Appearance, popularity, money, things?  Getting what is best only for me and for mine?  Or do we value service, meaning, purpose, caring – love for God and God’s people?  Our lives tell.  Our lives show.  It is what comes out that defiles, not what goes in.  And similarly, it is what comes out that makes a difference for the better and can change the world.  Not what goes in.  Amen.