Who is Included?

 Acts 8:26-39 

               Today we continue our journey through the book of Acts.  And we start by hearing a little about Philip.  Last week I shared with you that we learn in the early chapters of Acts that there was a Diaconate of 7 Greek leaders or disciples appointed to balance out the disciples from Jerusalem.  Like Steven, who we discussed last week, Philip is another one of these seven.  And at the beginning of chapter 8 we learn that while the early Christians were being persecuted, the unexpected result of this was that they were ending up spreading the word in much more expansive and effective ways.  They were being “scattered” as they escaped their persecution, which meant they were going out into other areas and telling the stories of Jesus and spreading the word. 

               So, then we come to today’s passage.  And we hear about this Eunuch.  The passage begins by telling us much about him.  He is Ethiopian, which was often a way of stating, at that time, that he was darker skinned.  He was probably a slave and we are told he was in charge of the entire treasury for the Queen of Ethiopia.  He is on his way “home to Jerusalem.”  And since many of the elite Jews during the Babylonian exile were exiled to Ethiopia, this tells us he is probably Jewish, but just like the Greek Jews who by many were not seen as the “real” chosen ones, because he is working in Ethiopia, he probably was not included, not “let in” to that inner circle by the Jerusalem Jews.  We are told all of this in a few brief sentences.  But after all of these ways of him being introduced, the story then identifies him only by his sexuality.  He is called “the Eunuch” for the rest of the story.  What is this about? 

               We will come back to that in a moment.  We are told, then, that he is reading this passage from the book of Isaiah.  And the passage says, “

Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter

    and like a lamb before its shearer is silent

    so he didn’t open his mouth.

In his humiliation justice was taken away from him.

    Who can tell the story of his descendants

        because his life was taken from the earth?

               This passage is from Isaiah 53: 7-8.  And it is probable that this Eunuch can relate to this passage all too well.  Eunuchs at this point in time were often young men, or older boys who were castrated against their will in the service of royalty.  They had no choice in it, and yet, after it happened, it was then usually held against them.  “in his humiliation, justice was taken away from him” must have resonated strongly with this Eunuch.  And according to Deuteronomy 23:1, then, “No one who has been emasculated by crushing or cutting may enter the assembly of the Lord.”  So this is a man who has been banned from the fellowship because of something related to his sexuality over which he had no actual choice.  Hm.  Sound familiar?

               This Eunuch, who is clearly still a very faithful person, is reading this passage in Isaiah and undoubtedly deeply resonating with the pain of it when Philip approaches.  But the Eunuch also has the wisdom, the insight, the foresight to have humility around it.  Or perhaps he is afraid that it is too good to be true that a Lord, a leader, could understand the kind of pain that he himself has lived.  He asks Philip to whom the passage refers.   And Philip talks about how this passage relates to Jesus.  He goes on to tell the eunuch all about Jesus.  And the Eunuch is so touched, so moved, so impressed with this Jesus who, like himself, was humiliated, rejected and whose life was taken away just as the Eunuch’s was, that he asks to be baptized right then and there.  But he does it in a way we would expect anyone who has received rejection after rejection after rejection to ask.  Instead of just saying, “Please baptize me now!”  he instead says, “What would prevent me from being baptized?”  and my guess is that he is asking it as a genuine question.  Will his sexuality prevent him from being baptized?  Will his being from Ethiopia and of darker skin keep him from being baptized?  Will his being a Jew who is not from Jerusalem prevent it?  Will his working for the royalty of Ethiopia keep him from being baptized?  He dares to ask.

               Just like with today’s people of faith, the questions around who was included and who was excluded were not clear cut.  There was argument.  There was debate.  I read to you the passage from Deuteronomy.  It was part of the purity code, which, by the way, included other things such as “It is an abomination to wear clothing of mixed material.”  And “It is not lawful to plant two types of crops in the same field.”  Men cutting their side burns, the eating of shellfish and pork – all of these were prohibited in this purity code.  But still, even in the Old Testament there were other voices arguing against this exclusion.  If the Eunuch had read just a little further in Isaiah, for example, he would have found one.  Isaiah 56: 3-4 reads, “Don’t let the immigrant who has joined with the Lord say, “The Lord will exclude me from the people.”  And don’t let the eunuch say, “I’m just a dry tree.”  The Lord says:  To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths, choose what I desire, and remain loyal to my covenant.  In my temple and courts, I will give them a monument and a name better than sons and daughters.  I will give to them an enduring name that will not be removed.”

               And, of course, the answer that Philip gave, the answer that is always, always given by God, to the Eunuch, to all those who have been excluded and rejected, humiliated and shamed is “No!  Nothing will prevent you from being baptized this day in this water.”  That is the Christian answer.  That is the response of Jesus’ followers.  What has excluded you before will no longer exclude you now.  You are included in this place and in this time.  You are invited to be part of this community.  This is the Good News that Philip continues to spread and preach “in all the cities until he reached Caesarea.”

               But just in case this wasn’t clear, Jesus himself had something to say about this as well.  This is from Matthew 19:11-12: “Jesus replied, ‘Not everybody can accept this teaching, but only those who have received the ability to accept it.  For there are eunuchs who have been eunuchs from birth. And there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by other people. And there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs because of the kingdom of heaven. Those who can accept it should accept it.’”  I want you to read that again, because it is very interesting.  What does it mean that there were eunuchs who had been so from birth?  It means that this has a fuller meaning than simply what we now understand to be “eunuch”.  “Eunuch” for Jesus and for those of his time included anyone who did not neatly fit into the two categories we have said are “male and female”.  So I want you to hear this once more.  Matthew 9:11-12: : “Jesus replied, ‘Not everybody can accept this teaching, but only those who have received the ability to accept it.  For there are eunuchs who have been eunuchs from birth. And there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by other people. And there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs because of the kingdom of heaven. Those who can accept it should accept it.’”  You notice he never tells them “go and sin no more” and he never tries to “heal” this.  He accepts it as sometimes being for the kingdom of heaven.  

               Of course, there are other passages that also figure in here, such as Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

               And yet, despite the fact that even Jesus preached acceptance, inclusion and even a recognition that for the kingdom’s sake, some would choose a different sexual identity, we still struggle with this.  This remains the case for today.  We, too, know there are Christians who reject others for their sexuality: their orientation, their gender identity, whatever it is.  But that is not what this passage shows us.  Those who choose to come in, those who choose to be included in the faith ARE included. 

               Dale posted on FB this week a quote that I think is so apt, so appropriate, “Worry about your own sin.  God is not planning to ask you about mine.”  Or, as Connie Schultz said it, “My mom taught me that being a Christian meant fixing ourselves and helping others, not the other way around.”  But we get really confused by all of this, don’t we? 

               Martin Buber wrote that there are really only two possible ways we can relate to the world.  I-it, or I-Thou.  When you treat others as “its” it is very easy to judge them, to condemn them.  But “thou” recognizes the other as a person who you can understand through relationship, through connection.  You can’t stereotype “thou”s because you know each as an individual.  You can’t ignore them, you can’t own them, you can’t throw them away.  The God who gave us life IS love and we are called to love with God’s love.  As I recently heard someone say, “Everybody is God’s somebody.”  EVERYBODY is God’s somebody.  Bishop Michael Curry said, “The Lord didn’t create anybody to be under anybody else’s boot” (Love is the Way, p 177) and that is what Philip understood in this story.

               As I was thinking about the question, “who is out” and “who is in” I found myself remembering the very first time I had visited a particular boyfriend's parents for Christmas.  We were both well into adult-hood and we had been seeing each other for about a year at this point.  As we were setting the table to eat, my boyfriend's mother asked, “how many are here?”  One of the my boyfriend's siblings sister replied, “Well, there are seven.  There are five of us and two of them.”  But my boy-friend's step-dad quickly came back with “No!  There are six of us!  And one of them.”  Now I’m certain he doesn’t remember this.  But I was struck at the time by the ferocity by which he defended my boyfriend’s place as part of their family rather than part of mine.  I found myself also thinking, “At what point do we count ourselves as ‘us’ instead of ‘them’?  At what point does the ‘I-Thou” move even deeper into the “We”.

               In Tattoos of the Heart written by Father Gregory Boyle, he talks about his work with gangs in LA, giving them jobs, a sense of belonging to something and to people who do not require violence or aggression as part of their membership rituals.  He writes about his experiences with these boys, these men, these families.  But his book begins with these words, “If there is a fundamental challenge within these stories, it is simply to change our lurking suspicion that some lives matter less than other lives.  William Blake wrote, ‘We are put on earth for a little space that we might learn to bear the beams of love.’ Turns out this is what we all have in common, gang member and nongang member alike: we’re just trying to learn how to bear the beams of love.” (pxiii).

The idea of Ubuntu is that “a person becomes a person through other people” – we are deeply and completely connected to one another.  When I am injuring you, it is me, myself who is damaged in the process.  And when I am kind to you, I am offering that kindness to myself as well.  There is a community in South Africa where an anthropologist told this story after studying the habits and customs of a specific tribe there.  When he finished his work, he had to wait for transportation that would take him to the airport to return home. He’d always been surrounded by the children of the tribe, so to help pass the time before he left, he proposed a game for the children to play. He’d bought lots of candy and sweets in the city, so he put everything in a basket with a beautiful ribbon attached. He placed it under a solitary tree, and then he called the kids together. He drew a line on the ground and explained that they should wait behind the line for his signal. And that when he said “Go!” they should rush over to the basket, and the first to arrive there would win all the candies. When he said “Go!” they all unexpectedly held each other’s hands and ran off towards the tree as a group. Once there, they simply shared the candy with each other and happily ate it. The anthropologist was very surprised. He asked them why they had all gone together, especially if the first one to arrive at the tree could have won everything in the basket – all the sweets. A young girl simply replied: “How can one of us be happy if all the others are sad?”

               Returning to the situation experienced by the Eunuch, this situation continues, as we know, today.  A 2014 study showed that 70% of all millennials and 58% of Americans overall now believe that religious groups are alienating people by being too judgmental about LGBTQ+ issues.  One quarter of the people how were raised in faith and left those traditions say that negative treatment of LGBTQ+ folk was the primary reason for their leaving.  We, as a church, claim to be something more, we say we are inclusive.  But are we?  Do we talk to those who are different from ourselves?  Do we include and invite into conversation those we don’t understand?  In light of the shrinking church, many ask how we can possibly feel we can afford to be judgmental.   But I will own that I don’t feel that we should stay alive as a church just to stay alive. 

No.  I don’t call us to be inclusive out of fear of dying.  I call on us to be welcoming and inclusive because that is what we are called to do.  The church has to exist with meaning and purpose or it shouldn’t exist at all.  And our purpose is to love.  That’s the bottom line, every time.  Our purpose is to love.  It is not to judge.  It is not to exclude.  We are invited into learning, we are invited into our own growing.  And we are invited into loving.  It’s all that easy, and it’s all that hard.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Being One

Acts 16:16-34

John 17:20-26

There once was a man who was stranded on a desert island for 14 years.  Finally, a boat came to the island and while he was really excited about being rescued and going home, he also wanted to show his rescuers around his island.  He showed them the little cabin he had built and the little store house where he’d put fruit and other food he’d collected.  He showed them the interesting inventions he had made and finally he brought them to a little building he had made that had a cross on it.  “And this,” he said proudly, “is my church where I come and worship God every week!” One of the rescuers said, “Wow.  That’s really great.  But it looks like there is another one just like it over there.  What is that building?” 

“Oh,” said the stranded man with a look of disgust, “that’s the church I USED to attend.”

Hmmm.  It’s hard to find unity – even with oneself!

            Have you ever had the experience of thinking about someone only to have them call you soon afterwards?  Have you ever had the experience of feeling like someone’s spirit was present with you?  Have you ever felt so connected to someone that you almost heard their thoughts on occasion?  Knew what they were feeling or thinking to such a degree it felt like they were talking to you in your head?  Have you ever discovered that you shared a dream with someone?  How about those connections with the larger world?  Have you ever had a feeling that something was wrong and then discovered that it was? 

            On the day my grandfather died, I woke up and thought I saw him standing at the foot of my bed, just smiling to me.  I called my father, and learned that he had passed away, about 10 minutes before I “had seen” him in my room.  Could it have been just a weird coincidence?  Of course many people would say that it was.  But I know differently in my heart. 

            September 11, 2001 I woke up with a strong sense that something was wrong.  Something was off.  I felt a sense of deep foreboding.  It was not my habit to do this, but I got up and turned on the news, just in time to hear what had been happening on the other side of the country.

            I have a friend who seems to know, without fail, when something has upset me and inevitably calls me.  The first words out of his mouth indicate that sense of connection “What’s wrong?” he will say.  “Something shifted and it feels like you’re upset.  What has happened?”

            I know I’m not alone in these experiences.  Some of you have shared similar stories with me.  Or stories that are uniquely your own but show us the same, mysterious connection that we have with one another.  And they just confirm what Jesus tells us in scriptures such as today’s gospel lesson.

            On Trinity Sunday we celebrate and look at the mystery that God is both three and God is one.  It is a deep mystery that theologians study and write about and contemplate.  They find new meanings and deeper important meanings in it all the time.  But still we struggle to comprehend this mystery.  How is it possible that God, the one God, can also be in community with God-self?  How can one God have 3 separate and unique persons who experience life differently, who relate to us differently – above us, among us, within us?  It is profound, amazing, and difficult to comprehend.

            What is less often looked at, though it is just as present in our scriptures is the fact that we, too, as God’s people are many and yet one.  Jesus says in today’s passage from John: “I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.”  We, too, though we are each unique, though we are each individuals, though we disagree with one another about many things and have different goals, different priorities, different views on the world – even so, together we are the body of Christ.  Together we are one.  Jesus says that just as he and God the parent are one (again, going back to the trinity) in this same way, we too, are one.

            So what does this mean, practically speaking?   It means a great number of things.  The first is that we need to strive for unity even when we cannot be uniform.  We need to strive for unity even when we are very different in our view points.  By saying that I don’t at all mean that we need to agree with each other.  The diversity in our thoughts, ideas, feelings, backgrounds,  and view points adds a richness and depth to life that give it meaning.  But what it means is that we should strive to work together, with one another, across our differences, towards furthering God’s realm here, towards caring and loving all people and all creation. 

            The second thing it means is that when I hurt you, I am hurting myself.  This, too, is part of the mystery of us as created beings, but that doesn’t make it any less true.  When I hurt you in any way – physically, emotionally, or spiritually, the person I am damaging is myself.  This is really hard, I think, to take in in any kind of real way.  Our cultural values tell us that I have to take care of my own and if that is at your expense, so be it because there isn’t enough for all of us.  But this is not what God teaches.  God teaches us that when even one person does not have what they need, all of us are short-changed.  And if we can hang on to that, it will deeply affect our actions.  When someone hurts us, we can remember that they are also hurting themselves and we can try to have some compassion for it.  Additionally, it makes it much harder to strike out in revenge (which is un-Christian anyway – Jesus was really clear that when someone slaps us on the cheek, we are supposed to turn the other one, not slap back).  We cannot strike out without realizing that, again, the person we are hitting is ourselves. 

            It also makes it imperative that we work for the good of all people – again, recognizing that when there is anyone who is hungry in the world, we all are hungry in some way.  When there is anyone who is suffering in the world, we are all suffering in some way.  And that doesn’t just include victims, it includes those who do the harming as well…what is broken in them that they are choosing this harm?  How have we contributed to their behavior?  How can we be part of healing all involved so that we, too, might be healed?   It means not wishing ill for anyone because the person we are wishing ill onto is ourselves.  And it means working, hard, to see the value in each and every other person.  Choosing not to see other people as “other” – as different, as people we can categorize and hate and ban in any way.

            In one episode of Joan of Arcadia, the high school is going through an election process.  The candidate whom Joan supports (because God has told her to) has been trashed by the opposition, a boy named Lars, who advertises publicly that Joan’s candidate has a father who is in jail.  Joan then discovers something potentially very damaging about Lars: she discovers that Lars is gay.  And she is ready to expose him, to “out” him, to cause distrust among his peers, feeling that an eye for an eye is the only way to get her candidate to win.  But just as she is on the verge of betraying Lars’ deepest secret, discrediting him, exposing him and destroying him, she ends up having a conversation with her mother.  Her mother shares with Joan regrets that she has about actions she took when she was feeling particularly self-righteous, and in that place of knowing she was right, she stopped thinking about the other person as a person, she stopped seeing the other, loving the other, caring for the other and as a result, she hurt the other – in a way that would never be forgotten.  Joan is moved by her mother’s story and chooses not to destroy Lars, not to betray him by telling the world his secret.  She gives up her chance for her candidate to win the election in so doing.  She says to her mom afterwards, “No, I didn’t do it, but it would have been so easy.  But then in my head I kept seeing him, looking at me, so scared you know?   Big strong Lars, scared and confused.  And I’ve been there, like, like all the time.  And it was like we weren’t really different people because someplace we aren’t!...  Why is that so hard to remember?”

            I don’t know why it’s hard to remember.  But it is.  We are so focused on our individuality that we forget how connected we are.  We forget what Jesus says about calling us to be one as he and God are one.  We forget that what we do impacts everyone in the world, that the whole way we look at life and interact with life makes a difference – not just for the person with whom we are interacting, but for ourselves and the world, too.  Every interaction we have matters.  Every time we are kind to someone it matters and every time we fail to be kind to someone it matters.

            I want to share with you another story.  I shared this before a couple years back but I think it is an appropriate illustration.

A father told this story about his child, Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled.

“Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, “Do you think they'll let me play?” I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps. I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, “We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.”  Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, “Shay, run to first! Run to first!” Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, “Run to second, run to second!” Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home..

All were screaming, “Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay”

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, “Run to third! Shay, run to third!”

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, “Shay, run home! Run home!”

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.  “That day”, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, “the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.”

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!”

The thing is, those kids who gave Shay that opportunity – those kids understood the connection for a moment.  For a moment, they remembered that we all are one.  Shay’s success was their success – for BOTH teams.  Shay’s success was a success for all people who have heard this story and connected with it.  Shay’s success, and the kindness and caring of those other kids made a difference and makes a difference.

Mitch Album in his book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, said: “… the secret of heaven: that each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.” (New York: Hachette books, 2003. p 208).  Or, as he said in Have a Little Faith, “God sings, we hum along, and there are many melodies, but it’s all one song – one same, wonderful, human song.” 

            Jesus prayed that we all might be one.  He wasn’t praying that we would all be the same.  He was praying that we might see our connections, our unity, our one-ness.  My prayer is that we can honor his call to oneness by remembering our connections to all of creation, to seek unity and love for one another in all that we do.  Amen.

Listening and Communication, Part II

       After I had written my blog on listening and communication, I had a very interesting experience.  Let me back up and say that I wrote the blog post on listening while I was on study leave.  I couldn't post it: I didn't have internet access so waited to publish it until I was solidly home.  But I wrote the post while I was gone at the CREDO conference.  CREDO is an amazing and wonderful conference that is given to Presbyterian Pastors (you go by invitation only) that focuses on renewal, education, intense self-reflection and creating a future plan in 5 major areas: physical, emotional, spiritual, financial, and vocational health.  Incredibly helpful, especially if there are areas you avoid or that make you uneasy.  They gave a great deal of information, but also allowed time for processing with a small group and on your own in order to look at what ways the information applied to us personally, and what we would then need to do with the information we were gathering.  At the end of the week, we were expected to have some plans for stepping forward with all the information.  As I was gathered with my small group in order to share those plans, I found myself laying out my ideas in these five areas but stating that there was absolutely no connection between any of them.  And that's when the conference took a complete 180 degree turn for me. My small group all stared at me like I was insane, and then calmly pointed out that not only was there a very clear unifying theme throughout all five of my areas, but that I'd even been using the same word over and over in each area to describe where I was and what needed to be addressed.  The group reflected back to me clarity, they challenged and deepened my thinking, they brought my scattered thoughts together into a single forward direction.
          And as I sat with this information, I had the uneasy revelation that it was not just that there had been over the last few years an increasing number of times when I have felt unheard by the people around me; it was, more seriously and more harmfully true, that I had been and still was unable to hear myself.  And THAT realization felt like a strong punch in the nose.
           I've always felt good about the fact that I am a self-reflective person.  I own my sh...  I easily apologize.  I am more than willing to do the work to figure out which pieces of a problem are my own, and which pieces I don't need to claim.  I am not afraid to ask for help with that self-reflection and to get other people's insights into what is really happening both within and without. When confronted, I take seriously what the other is saying to me and am able to be okay with owning my mistakes and the areas in which I still need growth and change. That is a core piece of my identity: I am self-reflective and willing to do the work of changing. And so, to realize that I had spent a week (and frankly, years before the week) working on specific issues and to have totally and completely missed what was actually at the base, at the root of what I was doing... well, it was a shock, to say the least.
          And it brought me back to the issue of listening.  Meditation is not just about listening to God (or the Divine or the Universe or whatever it is you listen to that is outside of yourself).  It is also about taking the space and breathing deeply enough to listen to yourself.  Training on how to listen to others can also help us to learn how to listen to ourselves.  Journaling, writing, walking, talking... all of these can help us to listen to ourselves.  But if we are not intentional about taking the time, if we are not purposeful and willing to really look deeper at things that may be uncomfortable, listening and being willing to really hear ourselves is not a given.
           I also found myself thinking that if we struggle to hear ourselves, how much are we really able to hear others?  Don't our own unexamined motivations get in the way of truly going deep into hearing what another is saying?
           Looking, then, to take this to the bigger level, I wonder if part of our increasing inability as a country, as a people, to hear one another hasn't started with the busyness of work, social media, entertainment and the blasting of the world with noise and lights that has prevented us from listening deeply, and firstly, to ourselves. It takes time and space to really hear.  It takes enough quietness that our thoughts are not drowned out by everything else going on.  It takes genuine rest and breathing in air that is not cluttered by worries, fears, anxieties, and that thing we have to do next.  If we can't make the space to learn to hear ourselves, how will we ever create a place where we are able to hear one another, especially across differences and diverse world views?
           I left the week with many goals.  But my primary goal is simply to make sure there is time and space to listen: to God, to myself and to others.  This isn't something I can learn once and then move on: it has to be a life long commitment to being in the world differently: without all the noise and distractions and fears.  One step at a time I strive to move into this.  I am grateful for the wonderful people around me who listen better than I.  I have much to learn.  I am grateful for those who have much to teach.

Seven Gifts of the Spirit

Ezekiel 37:1-6

Revelation 5

            The play that our members performed this morning focused on seven gifts of the spirit.  While the play emphasizes that these are really Christ's gifts, I think they are also our gifts, though, as was pointed out, they look different than we might expect.   Riches, for example, as a gift from the Spirit, doesn’t look like material wealth, it looks like a wealth of spirit and a wealth of community, a wealth of faith, a wealth of trust, love, grace. 

            So while I do not believe that we should have faith based on what we hope we can gain from our faith, what we hope God will give us because we believe (that may be common theology, but it is bad theology by the way, to believe because that’s the way to manipulate God into giving you things…), I do think that Pentecost is a time to celebrate the gifts that God does give, not only to us as individuals, but to each community, to the Church as a whole, to the people. 

            We can celebrate that community is itself a gift, as are faith, the ability to love and grow, the ability to forgive, the ability to trust and to love.  These, too, are gifts of the Spirit.  We can celebrate friendships, connections, the ability to be grateful, appreciation, vision and understanding are also gifts of the Spirit.  We can celebrate that compassion, grace, insight, understanding, discernment and wisdom are also gifts of the Spirit.

            Today as we celebrate the birthday of the church, the gifts of the church, the gifts of the Spirit, we also recognize that one of the deep gifts we are given is our diversity.  On Pentecost, all voices were heard – but more, all voices, with their different languages, different cultures, different view points – all were understood.  One of the things I love about this is that people did not become something else.  They weren’t all speaking the same language, they were just understood speaking in their different languages.  We, as Pentecost people are invited to do the same – to hear and to understand one another, despite our differences.  That includes people of different ages, of different languages, cultures, different orientations and genders, and view points – we are invited to listen to their words and their ideas, and to take them seriously. 

Are there people that you have trouble understanding here?  If so, Pentecost is a great time to recommit to listening, hearing and loving one another. 

I think about one of the learning and listening experiences of our last church that actually had to do with Eldest joining the church.  When new people join the church, the session is required to “examine” them to make sure they are “fit for membership.”  Usually this just means that we ask them why they want to join and then bless that joining.  I think there is an assumption, probably based on our own experiences and our own ways of being in the world, that says that when someone joins the church, they don’t want to be pushed too hard, confronted, challenged or to feel threatened by our questions.  Eldest told me though, when she joined the church both here and first in Ohio, that she really wanted to be taken seriously enough that the interview, the examination for membership was real – not token.  Convincing the session, though, to listen and to understand that request took some work.  They had to hear in a different way in order to trust what she was saying and ask questions that had some depth in them.

I also think of a story I heard recently from a pastor who noticed one Sunday a couple women who had been fighting for years in the church huddled together in a corner, hugging and crying.  One had just lost her spouse, the other had lost a spouse years earlier.  They connected over something they both now shared that allowed them to hear and support each other despite their differences.

I served as organist/music director for a small church while attending seminary.  After I left, I received a call from the new music director who felt that the pastor's wife hated her.  Shortly following that phone call, I received a call from the pastor's wife saying she did not know what to do because everything she did was interpreted by the new music director as a slight.  While both had good intentions, while both wanted the relationship to work, both were struggling because they had trouble seeing, hearing and understanding each other.  With help from me and others, though, they were able to work through some of it to understand that they just communicated and expressed themselves differently.

           On Pentecost, we celebrate our diversity within the church.  We honor that by celebrating the gifts the Spirit gives us.  And we honor it by striving with those gifts of compassion and grace and forgiveness to really hear and understand one another.  

Sunday's Sermon: Generation to Generation

Ezra 3:10-13

Luke 15:103, 11b-32

“Why do grandparents and grandchildren get along so well?  They have the same enemy – the mother”.  (Claudette Colbert from Brown, H. Jackson,.Wit and Wisdom of the Peanut Butter Gang. Nashville, TN: Rutledge Hill Press, Inc., 1994).

               Today I want to spend some time talking about generational differences.  How do we communicate across the generations?  How do we teach across the generations?  How do we form community with different generations?  How do we do worship which speaks, teaches and empowers all who come, across the generations?

               I believe that it is more than possible to do worship that touches and moves and is positive for people of many ages, but I also think that before we can make that possible, we have to start by understanding one another across those generations.  This is not always an easy task.  I have come to believe that we are all the ages we ever have been, meaning that while I stand before you a woman in my 40s, I am also still a person in my 30s, 20s, teens and even a child.  We have all of those parts of us, so in one way maybe it is easier for me to understand a young person that it is for them to understand me.  But at the same time our society and culture are constantly changing, so the world that we interacted with as children, the issues we dealt with as young people are very different from what today’s young people face.

               This morning I want us to spend some time looking at and understanding some of those differences.  But because I am limited by my own generation, I want to ask you for your help this morning with the message.

               Towards that end, I want to start by asking you, in this fairly intergenerational congregation, what do you, personally, have a hard time understanding about people of a different generation?  I’ll give you an example, to start us off.  I don’t understand, have never understood some of the fashions of different generations.  On the upper end, I think Polyester is extremely uncomfortable and don’t know why people wear it.  On the younger end, I don’t understand why kids wear their pants so low as to show their underwear.  I understand how that started – gangs wanted to have ways of hiding large weapons and these baggy pants do that successfully.  But what on earth is the appeal for kids who are not in gangs?  I don’t get it.  What are things that You don’t understand?

               Okay, maybe an easier question, what is something in your current life that you feel people of other generations don’t understand or have a hard time understanding? 

               The two Bible passages I shared with you today reflect those differences in generational experience and understanding.  The book of Ezra talks about what occurred after the destruction of the first Jerusalem temple.  The temple had been destroyed at least 49 years, but now, Ezra tells us, God was at work again and the people of Israel were finally able to begin rebuilding the temple.  They laid the new foundation for the temple, and everyone was rejoicing.  But the older people, and the priests who knew the stories of the older temple were also weeping.  Their experience was different.  On the one hand, here was a new generation, excited about what it could do, excited that it could build again, form community again, be a worshiping people again.  But on the other hand, here too was an older generation for whom this new temple foundation brought memories of the past, of the glory of the temple that was destroyed, of their loss of that temple, of the loss of that space, community, and experience.  Yes, a new temple would be built.  But it would not be the same.  It could not be the same.  As some of the other prophets, Haggai, for example, recount, this second temple was nothing like the first.   The young people had not been alive to see the previous temple, they were not alive to suffer its destruction.  But for the older people, this new temple was a reminder of what could never be again.

               For the older people, the new also reminded them that the temple was not the indestructible house of God that they had once believed it to be.  With the destruction of the first temple, their entire understanding of their world had been wrenched from them and changed irreparably.  No longer did they see their God as one who would, against any odds and at any price, live in the temple and save them from other peoples and their other gods.  There was much here to grieve as well as to celebrate; much that a younger generation would not, could not understand.

               In the story of the prodigal son, the misunderstanding between generations flowed in both directions.  While Jesus is telling a story and does not go into detail about the feelings of those in the parable, we can imagine how we might have felt as each character in the parable.  As a parent, what hurt would we feel if our child asked for his inheritance while we still lived, then took that inheritance and left.  How could we understand that?  What would cause a son to do that?  As the younger son, what anger would cause us to leave in such a cold way?  And how, as the younger son, could we possibly understand the father, his feelings, his potential actions as we crawled back to that father in shame, begging to be a hired hand?  What total lack of comprehension we might have felt as the older son on discovering that while we had done exactly what we were “supposed to do” for our father, without any seeming reward, our younger brother, who had been hurtful, rude, and selfish, who had left the house and squandered away what father had given him, had then been given a party after returning home!  Neither son could know, or could understand what it was like to be the parent; the depth of love, the depth of pain, the depth of rejoicing their father felt.  The father in turn did not know the pain, the shame, the hurt their sons suffered from their own actions.  Each was in a unique place, each generation suffered its own unique sufferings, each rejoiced and experienced its own unique experiences.

               Those barriers of understanding often keep us talking and “hanging out” with those who are closest to us in age and experience, and that is understandable.  We share with our peers a common history that makes conversation easier, that makes communication smooth.  Talking to our own peers, there is much that is assumed which we don’t need to make explicit.  There is much, not only in content, but in style of communication that makes it affirming and comfortable to share with those close to us in age and culture. 

               And yet, we have so much to learn from each other.  God has created us to be born, to live, to grow, to die, and to do so in community with people of all different ages and experiences.  We have been given a wealth of resources in those different ages, and different approaches to life.  There is so much abundance here in this room because we are multi-generational, a bit multi-cultural, because we come from and with very different experiences and backgrounds.  We can learn from our children what it means to really trust.  We can learn from them what it is to be completely genuine and vulnerable.  We can learn from people older than us that experience can teach wisdom, we can learn history.  We can learn patience and perseverance. We can learn more than we imagine from people of all ages.

               The book, Wit and Wisdom from the Peanut Butter Gang (see above citation) highlights some multigenerational wisdom, and I thought I would share with you some of these marvelous quotes, particularly about people of other generations, from children of all ages.

               Katherine, age 13 said, “I can remember what flavor of ice cream my grandmother and I shared at Disneyworld, but most of the time I can’t remember what day it is.  I guess it depends on what you think is important.”

               Adult Harold Hubert said, “Children need love, especially when they do not deserve it.”

               Kara, age 13 said, “Once you’ve lost your parents’ trust, it’s hard to earn it back.”

               Adult Rebecca Richards said, “Oh, to be only half as wonderful as my child thought I was when he was small, and only half as stupid as my teenager now thinks I am.”

               Shanna, age 14 said, “Parents should come with instructions.”

               Adult Mignon McLaughlin said, “Likely as not, the child you can do the least with will do the most to make you proud.”

               Jamie, age 16 said, “One of the greatest gifts my parents gave me was their love for each other.”

               Writer Pearl Buck said, “The young do not know enough to be prudent; and therefore, they attempt the impossible – and achieve it, generation after generation.”

               Sarah, age 12 said, “You should be careful around those younger than you.  It is surprising how much of an impact a word or action can make on them.”

               Lois, age 11 said, “You always have time for someone you care for.”

               Finally, I’d like to read to you “on Children” by Kahlil Gibran (The Prophet. New York: Alfred A Knopf, 1995):  “Your children are not your children.  They are the sons and daughters 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 with 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.”

               God has given us each other in all our diversity as a gift.  But God has also given us the free will to choose whether or not we will embrace this gift.  It will take time and commitment to get to know those around us who are older, younger, different than ourselves.  We may not quickly see or learn the gems of wisdom and experience we each have to share.  But one of God’s greatest gifts to us is the gift of each other, across all boundaries and ages.  It is worth the time and energy of getting to know people. 

               Coming back to your part in helping me with this morning’s message, I have one more question for you.  If you could share something with all the other generations about your own generation to help them understand you, what would that be?  What wisdom would you share?

               Finally, to leave you with one more piece of wisdom from the peanut butter gang, “children are a great comfort in your old age – and they help you reach it faster too!” – Lionel Kauffman.  

Listening, or failing to listen

I've been thinking about listening.  Partly this started because at our midweek service I showed a couple clips (one from Brave, one from Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail) about our struggles with listening.  Both are hilarious commentaries on how we fail to listen to one another. And part of why they are funny is because they are familiar, and only slight exaggerations on the ways we actually fail to listen.

But I've also been reflecting on the fact that when we disagree with someone, often we are accused of "not listening", even when this is far from true. There was another Presbytery where I served in which there was a strong divide between left/right, progressive/conservative, evangelical/liberal. And when controversial issues arose, the Presbytery always made sure to present both sides of the issue, to allow conversation and comments from all sides, to open up the floor for differing opinions and thoughts before a vote was taken.  Even so, after a vote was taken, there was always a general outcry from the losing side of, "you don't LISTEN", by which folk really meant, "You disagree.  And if you heard what I was saying, surely you could not possibly continue to disagree."

I have found this in conversation with others as well.  I remember a conversation with someone who was telling me he thought all of those who disagreed with him politically were idiots.  I pointed out that people listen to and respect different news sources. His response was "Well, I listen to it all and therefore make educated decisions!  THEY don't listen!"  He said the other side only listened to things which supported their own beliefs.  I found this far from true.  Again, I had engaged with people on both sides of the issues on many occasions including the same people he was calling "idiots" and they were absolutely aware of what the "other side" was saying.  But they disagreed with him. It is not that they weren't listening. They heard. And they disagreed.

In reflecting on this, I have found myself thinking two things.  First, as with much of what we attack in others, my experience has been that those shouting the loudest that "others don't listen" are in fact the people who listen the least.  They want to be heard, but they don't want to hear in return.  They cannot imagine the possibility that their ideas are incorrect, so they assume if someone else disagrees, they simply must not be listening.  For those who actually are aware that we are all imperfect in our thinking and that it therefore is a gift to each of us to hear a different opinion, an opinion that might help us grow and change and expand our views, they want that gift that comes with listening. Therefore they do listen.  They listen hard.  They still might not change their opinions, but they listen. They strive to hear and to understand.  And they usually assume that others are listening, too and just coming to a different conclusion.  They assume that others are behaving the way that they are behaving and so they aren't shouting about how "they aren't listening".  They accept the truth that people can hear the same things and still come to different conclusions at the end.

Secondly, all of us need to work at helping others know we hear them.  Reflective listening is not easy.  It takes time.  It takes a concerted effort to wait before offering our ideas and thoughts and instead to just take the time to say, "I hear you saying x.  I hear you feel y."  It slows down the conversation.  But it does encourage fuller listening.  If I have to rephrase what you are saying in my own words, it means I have to really hear what you are saying first. Rather than thinking about how I will respond to what you have said, I need to be focused on listening to you.  We are often so busy and in such a hurry to make our own points heard and to get on with it, that we fail to be truly present with each other, to hear, to listen, to empower one another in listening.

There are so many reasons to really listen.  First, I don't think people can grow in their ability to hear us unless they first feel heard.  Or to say this a little differently, really listening to people and letting them know they are heard often has the side affect of encouraging the other to offer us genuine listening as well.  Additionally, once a person feels heard, they are not as anxious to be trying to "make sure they are heard" and they can actually focus more on listening.  Second, listening, genuinely listening, helps build bridges of understanding and compassion even when people continue to disagree with one another.  Those bridges of understanding and compassion go a long way towards helping people grow and work together.  Finally, slowing down and taking the time to really hear one another, and to let one another know that they have been heard, is not a terrible way to spend our time.  What is it we are so in a rush to do with the rest of our time anyway?  Aren't we supposed to be about loving each other?  And what better way is there to actually do that than to listen?

My goal for this week is to work towards listening more fully with all that I am.  But also, I strive to be someone who recognizes that just because you disagree it does not mean that you haven't listened. Peace be with all who read and hear this day.