Good News?

     I receive daily a good news journal in my email.  I started doing it for the congregation so that Sunday mornings I could offer a moment for hope.  This has become, for me at least, a very important part of our Sunday morning service: taking a minute to lift up a reason to be hopeful.  It is frankly difficult to hold on to hope when we look at the increasing violence in our world; the senseless wars; the racism, sexism, heterosexism and more that are on the rise, world-wide; the unconditional support for people who do horrible, inhumane things while villainizing those who are already living on the edge because of unjust and broken systems; the anger and rage we encounter in greater and greater amounts; and the HEAT that is just a glimpse of what is to come in the next few years along with the fear that we will not have a planet we can live on for much longer because of human refusal to, very simply, care.  I can no longer listen to the "regular" news because I find it so distressing and so lacking in hope.

    So I signed up to receive this good news every day.  The e-zine I subscribe to usually lists 4-5 stories each day of good news, of humans being kind, of communities doing good work, of reasons to be hopeful.

    But I have to be honest, most of them are hopeful because they are countering a situation that is dire and lacking in kindness.  

    For example, today I read a story about how Jon Bon Jovi saved a woman from committing suicide who was about to jump off a bridge.  While the story did not detail why she wanted to commit suicide, the very fact that there are so many people in that state of wanting to take their own lives is deeply distressing.  But more to the point: the episode was caught on video.  And what surprised me was not the fact that Jon Bon Jovi stopped to talk to her, but that many people walked by her as she is hanging on the far side of the fence on the bridge with very clear intentions to jump, WITHOUT stopping!  Yay for Jon Bon Jovi, but really!  Shouldn't it be the exception that people don't stop for each other, don't step up, don't get involved to help?  Why is it the exception when someone does?

    The second story was about a woman who is taking old tennis balls and making furniture out of them.  She's doing this because most tennis balls end up in landfills where it takes at least 400 years to decompose!  Well, again, I'm thrilled she is doing something.  But why do we continue to use up the land (dare I say rape the land??!) of its resources to create huge, unusable garbage dumps with materials that cannot be reused or recycled?!  Why are humans so greedy that we feel the land is ours to use and abuse without care for future generations?  Why aren't more people demanding that we use renewable and recyclable resources instead of non-renewable resources that will run out and which, in the meantime, harm our planet, and often do damage to the people tasked with the jobs of extracting those materials from the earth?

    Today's third story was about a native tribe, the Chumash, who for the last 40 years have been trying to get legal protection of some important tribal land here in CA.  The good news was that now they are being heard, though it will still take more time to implement what they are requesting, which is protection of land.  But again, 40 years?!  And shouldn't we all want protection of our lands?

    The last story today was about another billionaire choosing to give $1million to a school.  He is donating less than 1% of his annual income, but it makes the news because it is so much in terms of the mighty dollar.  What if all these billionaires actually tithed, giving the ten percent that many give to help others?  What could be done then?  But no, those with more become greedier so that the small percentages they do give are seen as extraordinary and make the news.

    These stories, all of them, were just what came to my inbox today.  And as I'm writing this, I'm aware, again, that all of these are supposed to be good news, and yet each one of them said something very negative about humanity as a whole that I find very discouraging.  

    As always, my job is to pass on hope.  So what can I say about this that does offer hope?  It is hopeful that some of us can see how wrong the situations are in the first place.  Until we see what is wrong, until we can name it, there is no chance for change.  There is hope that there are a few people stepping out to make a difference.  Just as greed, anger and evil seem to be contagious, goodness and kindness is absolutely contagious.  So, as more people choose to do what is right, we can trust that their kindness will inspire others to also see the bigger picture and respond with care and kindness.

    From a faith perspective, we also put our hope in a God who can take our small efforts for good and grow them into bigger changes for the world.  We are called to trust that even when we cannot see the good we have done, that God can use it and grow it over time.  

    Perhaps these small pieces of hope don't feel like enough.  If that is the case I challenge each of you who are reading this to be the hope.  To be the kindness and to step into places of making a difference that we are each called to do.  Give more, even while knowing that it won't be reported to some good news magazine.  Care more, even while recognizing that your acts of reaching out to those who are struggling may not be caught on video.  Love more and serve more, even while seeing that you may start as the exception, but that as we continue to do the work of loving and serving, others will be inspired by our examples to do the same.

    We are the hope.  And we can trust that this is, indeed, good news!

Being Born From Above

 

John 3:1-21

Psalm 139:13-18

1/23/22

What happens in today’s story?  In today’s gospel reading, Nicodemus is asking literal questions which Jesus answers at many levels, the least of which is the literal.  Nicodemus’ response is to become very simply perplexed by Jesus’ answers.  He cannot move out of the literal, and Jesus becomes frustrated with him saying “Are you a teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?  …If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?”  We hear Jesus’ frustration with Nicodemus’ limited understanding and limited views.  But while we understand that when Jesus is talking about being born from above, that he is not talking about an actual second physical birth, none-the-less are we any more understanding of these difficult ideas, of these deep truths?  What does it really mean that “The wind (or spirit) blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.  So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Does it mean that we won’t recognize the Spirit because it comes unexpectedly?  Does it mean that everyone born of the Spirit is like the wind, flitting in and out?

So today, I actually want us to do something a little different.  We are going to do a study, rather than have a traditional sermon, and we are going to look at a number of different Biblical passages, all of which talk about “salvation” or “eternal life”.  I want to start by saying that I know we have different understandings within this room about what that even means, and I am not going to talk about what it means right now.  That’s for a different date.  For today I want to talk about how we get there.  Because there are a lot of different scriptures and they say different things.  So, for today I invite you to listen, to think, but also to participate with me in this, exploring these scriptures.

The first passage I want us to look at is Matthew 25, which we spend a lot of time on.  Who remembers the crux of Matthew 25:31-46?  “Now when the Human One[a] comes in his majesty and all his angels are with him, he will sit on his majestic throne.  All the nations will be gathered in front of him. He will separate them from each other, just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right side. But the goats he will put on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who will receive good things from my Father. Inherit the kingdom that was prepared for you before the world began. I was hungry and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me.  I was naked and you gave me clothes to wear. I was sick and you took care of me. I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then those who are righteous will reply to him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink?  When did we see you as a stranger and welcome you, or naked and give you clothes to wear?  When did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ Then the king will reply to them, ‘I assure you that when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Get away from me, you who will receive terrible things. Go into the unending fire that has been prepared for the devil and his angels.  I was hungry and you didn’t give me food to eat. I was thirsty and you didn’t give me anything to drink.  I was a stranger and you didn’t welcome me. I was naked and you didn’t give me clothes to wear. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’ Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and didn’t do anything to help you?’  Then he will answer, ‘I assure you that when you haven’t done it for one of the least of these, you haven’t done it for me.’  And they will go away into eternal punishment. But the righteous ones will go into eternal life.”

In this passage what determines salvation?  What is NOT mentioned here?  (faith!).

This passage in Matthew is in great contrast to the passage we just read from John.  But while the passage I read to you from John talks about faith being the doorway to God, I now would like to read to you from the book of Mark 1:21-28: “Jesus and his followers went into Capernaum. Immediately on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and started teaching. The people were amazed by his teaching, for he was teaching them with authority, not like the legal experts. Suddenly, there in the synagogue, a person with an evil spirit screamed, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are. You are the holy one from God.’ ‘Silence!’ Jesus said, speaking harshly to the demon. ‘Come out of him!’ The unclean spirit shook him and screamed, then it came out. Everyone was shaken and questioned among themselves, ‘What’s this? A new teaching with authority! He even commands unclean spirits and they obey him!’ Right away the news about him spread throughout the entire region of Galilee.” 

Who is it in this passage that actually recognized and believed that Jesus was the Holy One, the Son of God?  Who was it?  It was the demon.  In Matthew 8 there is a story very similar to this about the demons in two men who also recognize Jesus for who he is.  They also then submitted to Jesus will.  To quote Matthew 8:32: “Then Jesus said to the demons, ‘Go away.’ And they came out and went into the pigs.”  So not only did they have faith, but they obeyed him.  Are they then saved?

Now I’d like to read from you from 1 Corinthians 12:8-10:  “A word of wisdom is given by the Spirit to one person, a word of knowledge to another according to the same Spirit, faith to still another by the same Spirit, gifts of healing to another in the one Spirit, performance of miracles to another, prophecy to another, the ability to tell spirits apart to another, different kinds of tongues to another, and the interpretation of the tongues to another.”

One of the many things that this says to me is that faith is a gift.  So, if what you need for salvation is faith, but faith is a gift from God, what does this say for those who have not been gifted by faith?  Did God pre-ordain them to not receive salvation?  Does this mean God has purposely withheld faith and therefore salvation from some?  Hm.  That wouldn’t be a very loving God would it?

One of my favorite passages is from Romans 14:8-11. “If we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we belong to God.  This is why Christ died and lived: so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.   But why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you look down on your brother or sister? We all will stand in front of the judgment seat of God.  Because it is written, As I live, says the Lord, EVERY knee will bow to me, and EVERY tongue will give praise to God.”  This is also reflected in Luke 3:4-6:  A voice crying out in the wilderness: “Prepare the way for the Lord; make his paths straight. Every valley will be filled, and every mountain and hill will be leveled. The crooked will be made straight and the rough places made smooth. And ALL people will see God’s salvation.”

So, the question that is raised by this for me is, if every knee will bow and every tongue give praise to God, and if all people will see God’s salvation, that sounds awfully inclusive.  And if salvation is achieved through faith or confession or belief, or even works, how does these passages fit into that?

Finally, we have the passage from John 14.  Jesus says, “I am the Truth, the Way, the Life.”  “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”  Many Christians have interpreted this to again say that all we have to do is believe.  But I don’t hear it this way.  This is about a whole lot more than believing – this is about following in and being in the “Way” and it’s about living “the Life”.  We come to God by following in or going in or being in Jesus’ way- So once again we are back to looking at what Jesus did and what we, therefore, are also called to do.  Jesus loved everyone –including his enemies – forgiving even those who killed him from the cross.  He healed the sick.  He challenged the self-righteous to act with love rather than legalism.  He fed everyone who came to him.  And we are called to do the same. 

As you know, there has been a long-standing controversy among Christians about what it really is that saves.  As these passages point out, this controversy was present from the beginning of Christianity and was therefore written into our very Biblical passages.  But I think that James sums it up for us pretty well in his second chapter vs. 14-17: “My brothers and sisters, what good is it if people say they have faith but do nothing to show it? Claiming to have faith can’t save anyone, can it?  Imagine a brother or sister who is naked and never has enough food to eat.  What if one of you said, “Go in peace! Stay warm! Have a nice meal!”? What good is it if you don’t actually give them what their body needs?  In the same way, faith is dead when it doesn’t result in faithful activity.”  We try to separate these things out, but James tells us that they really can’t be separated out.

And that leads us back to today’s passage.  In the lectionary passage today, the story of Nicodemus, while Jesus uses the phrase, “you must be born from above” and it is only Nicodemus who uses the phrase “born again”, an idea Jesus challenges as showing a lack of understanding.  It is ironic, then, that so many Christians have bought into Nicodemus’ phrasing of needing to be “born again”, not paying attention to the fact that not only is this not Jesus’ idea, but that Jesus actually gets upset with the way Nicodemus fails to understand Jesus.  We can again become Nicodemus by being literal about a need for a second birth.  We can become formulaic in our understanding of what it is to be “saved,” the very thing Jesus is confronting.  Nicodemus is trying hard to make these ideas of being born of water and spirit literal and tangible – graspable.  We understand that.  We, too, want these ideas to be understandable, clear-cut, simple and spelled out for us.  Tell us what we need to do to be saved.  Make it clear for us and easy.  But Jesus says “no”.  “Being born of water and spirit” cannot be rigid, or fixed.  If it becomes cliché or codified, it loses depth of meaning.  Being born both of water (especially in the form of baptism) and Spirit requires putting aside certitude and assumptions – that is part of what Jesus means when he declares that the Spirit will blow where it chooses and we will not know from whence it comes or where it is going.  Trying to pin down faith in a formulaic or set way cheapens it and destroys it.  Instead, being born from the spirit invites us to recognize that God’s full character as revealed in Jesus will reshape our lives only if we stay open to where the Spirit leads, to where it blows in spite of and in contrast to our assumptions and expectations. 

A tourist came too close to the edge of the Grand Canyon, lost his footing and plunged over the side, clawing and scratching to save himself.  After he went out of sight and just before he fell into space, he ran into a scrubby bush which he desperately grabbed with both hands.  Filled with terror, he called out to heaven, “is there anyone up there?”  A calm, powerful voice came out of the sky, “yes.”  The tourist pleaded, “Help me!  Help me!”  The voice responded, “Are you a believer?”  “Yes, yes!”  “Do you have faith?”  “Yes, yes!  I have strong faith.”  The voice said, “In that case, simply let loose of the bush and trust that everything will turn out fine.”  There was a tense pause, then the tourist yelled, “Is there anyone else up there?”

Having enough faith, loving others enough – striving to do these things is all part of the journey.  It is all something we grow into. The question “Have you been saved?” for me is always be answered with, “I am on the way” because it isn’t a switch – either on or off.  It is a process of becoming more faith-filled, becoming more loving, following more closely in the path of Jesus every day.  Many seem to be able to point to a moment in time when they came to faith or offered their life to Jesus.  But I see even by their actions that they are, too, are really still on their way to true faith –most have not yet reached the point where, like Jesus, they are willing to give up their lives so that others, even their enemies, may live. 

So, as always, the question remains, where is the good news in this?  All of the passages we read today give us some insight into salvation.  But the Good News is that ultimately, salvation is not about us - it is about God.  It is God who saves.  It is God who loves us.  It is God who gives us the grace that leads us “home.”   And for me, what all of these different passages say, what God’s grace points out, is that I really can’t be in the position of judging anyone else’s path.  It is not for me to limit how or to whom God’s grace extends.  My concern needs to be about following the best I can in the path.

I want to share with you a quote from Charles Peguy (French poet & essayist 1873 – 1914) “Grace is insidious.  When grace doesn’t come straight, it comes bent. When it doesn’t come from above, it comes from below. When it doesn’t come from the center, it comes from the circumference. We may finish a way we never began, but we shall finish. This age, this land, this people, this world, will get there along a road they never set out on.”

And finally, I want to end finally with a poem written by Ken Rookes intitled,

Sometimes I am born from above

Sometimes I am born from above;

my spirit soars and I sense

that greater Spirit touching and caressing

my soul. Perhaps it is merely

my imagination, but I feel myself

rising above my petty concerns,

my selfish fears. In these moments

my soul sings (with Dame Julian),

all shall be well;

and my conviction grows deeply

that I must employ all my best efforts

to make it so.

At other times

I find myself firmly tethered

to this dust-filled earth, and those same

inward preoccupations push urgently

and insistently to the front,

and I worry, like the man in the story;

will I have enough, and have I got it right,

and will those gates be opened to me?

Sometimes I am born from above

and I feel the Spirit’s wind blowing,

blowing, and hear her singing

with words outrageous

and melody unconstrained;

thus I find myself moving awkwardly

but unembarrassed amidst rhythms

half-learned, infused with life

and never fully understood.

 

Let us be open to God’s Spirit today and everyday.  Amen.

 

Another very personal self-reflection: on hope

     I was watching MASH yesterday with my son.  He loves MASH and is leaving to return to school on Saturday, so we spent some time last evening watching a few reruns of this wonderful, wise program.  One of the episodes we watched was Dear Sis in which Father Mulcahy is basically narrating some of his time in Korea through the writing of a reflection letter to his sister.  The episode starts with an altercation between a patient who is flailing and being horrible to Margaret, refusing to accept the help of the nurses or anyone else.  Margaret calls for Father Mulcahy's help.  When he tries to help, the patient acts out towards the Father, saying he is not qualified to help or even deal with the patient and he punches the Father, hard.  In an unexpected moment of both self-defense and anger, Father Mulcahy punches the man back!  He then spends much of the episode dealing with that instinctual response.  He apologizes to the man, he tries to explain, but the man is basically a jerk in this episode.  He continues to attack, verbally, the Father, saying he is in no way a holy man and must have gone to seminary at the YMCA.  The patient cannot see his own actions as having been part of the problem, and he has no ability to offer grace or forgiveness.  Father Mulcahy just accepts into himself all the attacks that come from this man.  He leaves the hospital room, goes outside where Hawkeye finds him and the interaction between the two is as follows:

Father: You know, I used to coach boxing at the CYO. I told my boys it built character.

Hawkeye: Father, why don’t you stop punching yourself on the chin.  Pick on someone your own size!

Father: I’m Christ’s representative. “Suffer the little children to come unto me.  Do unto others… I’m not just supposed to say that stuff.  I’m supposed to do it.

Hawkeye: All you’re supposed to do is the best you can.

Father: Some "best!"

Hawkeye: Best is best!  Look.  Suppose you were sitting here right now with somebody who had done his best and was feeling lousy about it.  You’d let ‘em off the hook, wouldn’t you?

Father (still reeling in feelings of guilt and shame): Sure I would.  And if the hook didn’t work, I’d probably try an uppercut.

Hawkeye: Father, get off your back.

Father: It isn’t just that.  I don’t seem to make a difference here.  I hang around on the edge of effectiveness.  And when I do step in, I really step in.

Hawkeye: Look.  This place has made us all nuts.  Why should you be any different?   We don’t sleep. We don’t eat.  And every day a truck dumps a load of bloody bodies at our feet.  Okay so you hit someone.  We have to stand here and watch so much misery we’re lucky we don’t all join hands and walk into a chopper blade.

        I found myself struck deeply by this conversation both from a personal place, but also from a communal place. While we are not living through a literal war, in many ways we ARE living through a metaphoric one.  Our war is against this tiny little virus who has many tricks up its sleeve, and who appears to be using them all.  We are in a constant state of stress, of fear.  Will we be the ones to get it next?  How will it affect our families?  Our loved ones?  Our communities?  We think we see the end of the pandemic, and then something else happens and it goes on with more violence and damage than before.  At this point I think few of us have avoided losing a loved one to this disease.  Even fewer have remained unaffected by the illness.  As Hawkeye said, "We don't sleep.  We don't eat.  And every day a truck dumps a load of bodies at our feet." Holding on to hope right now is difficult.  Everyone remains tense, many are grieving, people are fearful and anxious, and everyone has moments when they are less able to act their best, to be their best.  We are all making mistakes and the results, because during this stress it is difficult to step back or to take things with the ease we otherwise might, are broken relationships, torn communities, and a fractured world.  

    We see this in so many places in our world: deepening anger, acting out, rage, violence.  We also see it, more personally, in the church.  There have been numerous articles written, including one in the Wall Street Journal (article) saying that church communities in general are experiencing a return of only about 50% - 70% of their people because of COVID.  Many of our churches are simply having to close as a result of this loss of membership.  Churches are learning to adapt, but pastors' burn-out level is extraordinary right now.  That, too, seems to be the subject of many articles crossing my desk recently: the mass exodus of pastors from church leadership.

    Why are they leaving?  There are many reasons.  One is that things are simply very stressful.  Pastors are having to learn and even create new ways of doing church during fluctuating, changing situations when we can meet, then can't meet, then can meet again but with differences, with limitations, with restrictions.  We are having to discover or create new ways to connect people and to stay connected to our people.  These new learnings take time and energy and most of us were already working more than full time at our jobs.  We are navigating a new world, one that changes monthly if not weekly and sometimes even by the day.  This is hard and we don't know where the next change will come, where we will need to adapt next.  Our congregants struggle with these changes too, so not only are we carrying our own stress, our own need to roll with the punches, but we are also called on, constantly, to be the face and voice of calm assurance, of hope, and of promise for our members.  We are called on to navigate the conflicts that are arising as we try to sort through these changes: some want masks, others don't.  Some are pro-vaccine, others aren't.  Some say we open to all, regardless; others say we need to limit who and how people can attend.  Not only do we need to be making these decisions, but we need to be reassuring and comforting those who would have wished we'd made different choices.  That in itself is exhausting.  Add to this that members are acting out their own fear, stress and anger by attacking those in leadership positions.  Pastors are easy targets and are receiving more than their fair-share of blame and anger.  

    But I think the story above about Father Mulcahy points to another reason why pastors are leaving.  We are not immune to the stress of this situation.  And we are not perfect.  I've written before about the unrealistic expectations that people have for their pastors, so I won't go into the details of this here again.  But the bottom line is we aren't more than human.  We are human.  In the Presbyterian church we recognize that pastors are not even more "holy" than other people.  All of us, every single person on this planet, has a call, and for all of us that call includes learning to be more loving, forgiving and gracious.  As Jesus said, "I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners."  We are all on a learning curve, on a path of growth.  And that means all of us will fall, will stumble, will make mistakes.  But the expectations for pastors remain very high.  When you combine huge levels of stress with the expectations that we will somehow be better, navigate the struggles better, walk through this terrible time with more grace, more patience, more wisdom and insight than everyone else, the reality is that we will disappoint people.  We will make mistakes.  We will, at times, fail.  And when we fail, it is not just our parishioners who struggle to forgive us.  We struggle, deeply, to forgive ourselves.  As Father Mulcahy said, "Do unto others… I’m not just supposed to say that stuff.  I’m supposed to do it."  But sometimes in stress when someone hits us, we won't be able to step back and respond with grace.  Sometimes we will, instinctively and without thought, punch back.  And when our apologies are not "enough"?  When they are not accepted?  When, like Father Mulcahy, we are sneered at, accused of being "fakes" and told that we are simply horrible at what we do?  Well, we have a hard time not taking those comments in.  

       And then it goes even deeper.  Again, as Father Mulcahy said, "It isn’t just that.  I don’t seem to make a difference here.  I hang around on the edge of effectiveness.  And when I do step in, I really step in."  There are times when it is hard to see that what we do makes a positive difference, especially in a time when affirmation is little and far between, and when the world around us continues to crumble, to tear, to struggle, no matter how hard we work.  We remember every time we have made a mistake.  We remember, with a voice that yells in our heads pretty constantly, every time we should have responded differently, should have seen things we didn't, should have acted when we failed to do so, should have, would have, could have...  It is hard, at times, to avoid focusing solely on the things we should have done and the things we shouldn't have done and to instead see any good we might have done.  It is hard, in these times, to hold on to a sense of purpose, of meaning, and most especially, of hope.

    I am grateful that when I have hit those lows, I feel that God has, every single time, stepped up and stepped in with reassurance and grace for me.  This weekend I hit one of those bottoms where my very career was in question for me once again.  It doesn't help that a member in my household is going  through the usual pastor's-kid, teenage rebellion thing and is telling me, with some regularity, that religion causes nothing but damage and that my job not only does no good, but is actually harmful to the world.  While I have my own arguments against this, it still hits hard and I do sit with their words, wondering how much is true.  Additionally, I'm coming off a very challenging month where we were struggling with family health crises and the demands on my time between family needs and my job during Advent and Christmas were frankly too much.  I was, like Father Mulcahy, very much in the "I don't seem to make a difference here... And when I do step in, I just seem to make mistakes" mentality.

      But three things happened for me, right in a row, all converging at the same time.  The first was seeing the MASH episode where Father Mulcahy's words resonated so deeply with my own feelings.  Seeing his struggle when the character does so much good in the series was a gift and reminder that we can't always see the good we do, we are simply called to do the best we can and trust that God will take our best and infuse it with grace.  Not everyone will be able to forgive our errors: the soldier in the MASH episode never did forgive Father Mulcahy.  But, as we know, that lack of forgiveness hurts the one hanging onto the grudge most of all.  That is a choice another can make.  One we cannot change.  All we can do is be aware of our own errors, apologize, and do our best not to repeat them. 

    The second thing that happened for me was that an individual took the time to tell me that something I had said to her had been life-changing and had put her on a different path forward, one with hope, joy and amazing possibility.  Without betraying this individual's confidence or situation, I see the change.  And I am grateful to have been allowed to be part of that.  

    The third thing that happened needs a little more explanation.  I've been feeling strongly that the most important part of my job right now has been and continues to be giving hope.  Even when I have not felt it myself, I have felt deeply called, impelled even, to be the bearer of hope during this time of extreme stress, confusion and pain.  In every bible study, every meeting of our anti-racism group, and in many of our committees and small group meetings, then, my voice has been the voice trumpeting hope in the face of anger, pain and despair.  That has been my job and my call for this last year and a half.  As times have darkened, I have felt this even more strongly.  Recently, then, I added into our worship services a "moment of hope" where I share a positive story, a story of someone doing good, being kind, making a beautiful difference, even in the face of these difficult and painful times.  Again, I feel the deep importance of being that voice of hope, even when I cannot summon it for myself.  With that back-drop in mind, every epiphany we do an exercise at my church where we pass out paper stars that have spiritual disciplines and gifts written on them.  No two stars are the same each year, and each person picks one out of a basket.  Out of all of the stars that I could have chosen, the one that I picked, the one that came to me, was "hope."  While I usually am a bit of a cynic when it comes to the chance that a word would come to each person that was exactly the right word at exactly the right time, I felt an electric shock run through me when I saw that word on my star.  Yes, my focus and my call has been centered on hope.  And that star was a reminder that that hope is there for me as well: offered to me, even when I am struggling, and even when I cannot see if what I do makes any difference at all.  The star was a both a reminder of my call right now, and a promise that hope is there for me, too.

    I would wish the same for all of you: that you would find and hold hope during this very difficult, very challenging time.  Practice kindness. And look for where God is: where there is light, joy, love, grace, forgiveness, mercy, and, above all, hope.

A New Covenant

 Jeremiah 33:14-18; 31:31-34, Mark 6:1-13

               Today we finish our study of the book of Jeremiah.  And we finish it with two passages from Jeremiah that are, at their base, all about hope.  This is especially true of Jeremiah 31 with those very familiar words, “this is the covenant that I will make with the people of Israel after that time, declares the Lord. I will put my instructions within them and engrave them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.  They will no longer need to teach each other to say, “Know the Lord!” because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord; for I will forgive their wrongdoing and never again remember their sins.” This is hope, at its core.  It is a promise that the new relationship the Israelites will have with God will be so close, so intentional that it will no longer have to be heard through words such as the prophets bring, or words such as are written in scripture.  It will be okay that the temple is destroyed because God will live within them and not just at the temple.  The new covenant will be written in our very hearts. Intermediaries will be unnecessary at all. And location will be unimportant.  We will know God because God is right there within us, speaking to us, part of our very beings.  God will be within, not holding grudges, no longer angry, but forgiving and living connected to us. 

               And then we read the passage from Mark.  And there are two parts to this.  In the first we hear that Jesus is not being recognized or honored in his hometown.  And in the second, we hear him give the disciples directions for their future.  He tells them to go into the community with nothing at all on them.  And what are they to do?  We hear it here, “So they went out and proclaimed that people should change their hearts and lives.  They cast out many demons and they anointed many sick people with olive oil and healed them.”  Why do you think these two stories are in Mark together? 

The first part of today’s message in Mark is the experience of Jesus that he then, in the second part, asks the disciples to carry through.  Jesus was proclaiming the Good News, liberty for the captives, sight for the blind, freedom for the oppressed.  And he was healing, bringing these things into a concrete form, making physical what he was proclaiming to be the Good News.  But in his hometown, he was not able to do the work that he felt he was called to do.  So he shook the dust off his feet, did what he could  and then moved along.  In the second part of today’s reading, then, he then tells the disciples to do the same: to go into the world, proclaim the good news, cast out demons, heal and anoint sick people.  If they too are not welcomed or heard, then they, too, are to shake the dust from their feet and move along. 

How does this tie in to the Jeremiah passage?  Jeremiah talks about a New Covenant written in our hearts.  But a Covenant is not a one-way street.  A covenant is something that is created in relationship and it goes both ways.  I commit to doing x and you commit to doing y and we both commit to this out of the depths of love and integrity that form a relationship.  Jeremiah describes what God puts in our heart, God’s commitment to forgiveness and connection.  And the Mark passage describes our part.

And what, again does that look like?  This passage from Mark in which Jesus tells the disciples what they are to do says so very much to us, some of which we recognize in what is NOT said as much as in what is said. 

For example, this passage tells us that the disciples, the followers of Jesus, are not called to fight.  They are not to beat people up with the Bible, with scripture, with the “good News”.  They are not to argue or cause problems.  They are to deliver their message, and if what they share is not received or heard, they are to move on.

               Second, what is the message that the disciples are to deliver?  “to proclaim that people should change their hearts and lives.  To cast out demons and anoint the sick and heal them.”  What is absent here from what we usually think the disciples are being asked to do?  Jesus is NOT telling the disciples to convert people to belief in Jesus.  He is NOT telling the disciples to make sure people have right beliefs.  He is not even telling the disciples to share about Jesus, what he has done and what he will do.  Instead, they are to invite people to change their hearts and their lives.  This is profound.  Once again this is about action, not belief.  And about relationship rather than just a barter exchange of faith for salvation.

               Mark Davis said it this way:  “In my own reading of Mark, I think it is an incredibly important moment when Jesus sends the twelve out preaching repentance. It relates to my somewhat-developed opinion of the so-called ‘messianic secret’ in Mark. The phrase “messianic secret” attempts to name a motif that certainly is central to Mark’s gospel – the repetitive ‘don’t say anything’ moments right where we don’t expect them. For me, however, it is not so much a secret as a re-direction. By attempting over and over to make Jesus ‘the Messiah,’ people were missing the point of his message, which was that the Reign of God was present and that they all were invited to participate in it. As long as they had the Messiah to embody the reign, they were missing the participation part. To ‘follow’ is not to point to, observe, marvel, coronate, or even profess. It is more about joining along, taking up the message, indeed taking up the cross that is central to the message, and “believing” by living in the present reign of God. It is healing the sick, delivering those who are oppressed, etc. In other words, I don’t think the “messianic secret” is a literary device by Mark, but a theological point that Mark saw Jesus trying to re-direct his message away from himself and toward following-as-participating.”

               So then we come to the question of what we are repenting from.  What are the demons that they are casting out?  And this, too, we come to understand by seeing how Jesus lived his life, what his values were, what his call was to the people and what he did.  And we see that lies, greed, addictions, oppression of any kind: these were what he fought against, these were the demons that he was casting out time and again.  They manifested in terrible ways in that time, and indeed they do in our time as well.  And what is at the heart of all of these?  Fear. Fear of not having enough, fear of being the underdogs, fear of losing power or control, or understanding of the world.   Jesus represented change and people were afraid of it.  And their demons were manifestations of that.  Our call, then, as we follow Jesus, is to challenge fear.  To reassure people that in Christ, in God, there is nothing left to fear.   When they accept that truth, accept it in their hearts: take it in as the Covenant in our hearts that God has placed there, then their demons are gone and they can truly live as people forgiven, renewed, and invited into the future.   

               I came across a wonderful song that I will be playing for you later called “Fear is a Liar” by Zach Williams.

               The words are:

When he told you you're not good enough
When he told you you're not right
When he told you you're not strong enough
To put up a good fight
When he told you you're not worthy
When he told you you're not loved
When he told you you're not beautiful
You'll never be enough

When he told you were troubled
You'll forever be alone
When he told you you should run away
You'll never find a home
When he told you you were dirty
And you should be ashamed
When he told you you could be the one
That grace could never change

Fear, he is a liar
He will take your breath
Stop you in your steps
Fear, he is a liar
He will rob your rest
Steal your happiness
Cast your fear in the fire
'Cause fear, he is a liar

Let your fire fall and cast out all my fears

Let your fire fall, your love is all I feel

Let your fire fall and cast out all my fears

Let your fire fall, your love is all I feel

Let your fire fall and cast out all my fears

Let your fire fall, your love is all I feel

Oh, let your fire fall and cast out all my fears

Let your fire fall, your love is all I feel

                And that leads us back to the Jeremiah passage.  Because the other side of fear is hope.  It is hope that there is something bigger than ourselves and something bigger than our fears. It is the hope that even when things are hard, that God’s love is greater than we can imagine, greater than any problems or struggles or pain that we may have.  It is the hope in a resurrection that overcomes every death and is bigger and stronger than even death.  It is a hope that says we CAN change and that things CAN be better.  God sends us this message of hope in so very many ways.  It is truly, all around us for us to hear. 

As you know, Eldest lost almost everything that she owns when she moved back to school at the beginning of the summer.  Her large suitcase, MY suitcase actually, went missing in transit with all of Eldest’s clothing, and several of her personal treasures.  Included in those personal treasures were three of her four favorite stuffed animals.  Maybe that feels like a small thing, but these were her comfort toys, her comfort animals, and it really was a blow to Eldest to face their loss on top of not having any clothing that is familiar to her, nothing that she picked out, and nothing at all to wear for the first week of her return to school.  And yet the other day, Eldest sent me this text:  “There was one stuffed animal that I couldn’t easily fit into my suitcase that I carried with me on the plane.  It was my red panda.  My red panda’s name is Hope.  I lost almost all my stuff, but Hope stayed with me.”

That hope is also there in the words from Mark which call on all of us to be better than we are, to turn, to repent, to be willing to go out into the world with NOTHING but a staff: no money, no food, nothing. 

One of the pastors in my lectionary group is Indian.  He was born and raised in India.  He told us this week that when he came to the United States, he had a small bag of personal items and $8.  That was it.  That was all he had with him, but he trusted that he would find here what he needed and he did.  That is the faith that cannot be separated from action.  That is the faith of repentance, or turning around, changing, going a new way.  And in that is great hope. 

There is also hope to be found in the words of Mark’s first story for today, “He  was unable to do any miracles there, except that he placed his hands on a few sick people and healed them.”  “Except that he placed his hands on a few sick people and healed them.”  While Jesus knows our experience of rejection, while Jesus has experienced it too, at the same time, he was still able to heal a few sick people.  And that may be our experience too.  We speak, we live lives that follow Christ’s call to us to be changers in this works.  And then the hope tells us that we can let go of the results.  All we can do is the work that is before us to do and trust God to do the change where God will.  The wind, the Spirit, the breath blows where it will and we are not in charge of the results.  Fear of failure is itself another demon of fear, one we are called to release, to “exorcise” or to cast out.  Even where Jesus was rejected, healing happened.  And even when we cannot see it, the lives we live for good make a difference in the world. 

If we look for God, we will see God.  And if we look for hope, we will find hope.  Hope is there all around us, all the time.  It is in Jeremiah’s message of God writing the new covenant directly onto our hearts, no more go-between, no more middle-man, no more needing to be told that God is with us because that new covenant is there for us, now, written directly onto our hearts.  It is in the fact that what we do makes a difference, even when and if we can’t see it.  It is in the risks people take to start their lives anew, to make the changes God calls us to make, to step forward with little to nothing in their hands.  And it is in the very covenant that God has written on our hearts: a covenant for good, for love, for connection, for Relationship!  That is powerful and amazing and wondrous and God gives it to us.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.  

 

 

Grasping Life

 Mark 5:21-43, Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15

This passage from Mark is one I personally find very moving and very inspiring.   The passage is really two stories put together.  In the first story, a man of some stature approaches Jesus about his little girl.  She is terribly ill, “to the point of death” we are told, and later in the story the man is told that she is dead.  We understand this father.  He is desperate, truly desperate for healing for his daughter.  He is desperate to the point that he doesn’t care that many of the other synagogue leaders and people in power are suspicious of Jesus and even want to have him killed.  He doesn’t care if he makes a fool out of himself in front of people who may be in his temple and may lose some respect for him, possibly making his position as leader in the synagogue difficult.  He doesn’t care because this is his little girl he is concerned about, and she is dying.  So he comes and falls at Jesus’ feet and he begs Jesus.  We are told that he begs Jesus repeatedly.  “Please, I beg you, come and heal my daughter.  Just put your hands on her, please, so that she may live!”

His desperation pushes him beyond caring about anything else except getting healing for his daughter.  His despair pushes him to an act that would otherwise be seen as very courageous, as very bold, maybe even as outrageous.  His love for his daughter caused him to concretely grasp hold of whatever he could to claim LIFE for his daughter.

Jesus is moved by the man’s desperation.  He is moved by the man’s pleas.  And he is moved by the man’s act of faith in approaching Jesus in this way.  We are told that he goes with the man to see his daughter.

At this point the story is interrupted by a second story.  In this second story a woman who has been hemorrhaging for twelve years approaches Jesus.   In those days to be bleeding meant that you were unclean.  She would have been a complete outcast, totally isolated from her community because of her status as diseased and therefore untouchable.  She has done everything that could be done in those days to help herself.  We are told she has spent all she had, every penny, going to doctor after doctor for help.  And all of it has only made her worse.  She too, then, is desperate.  This time not for someone else but for herself.  And she too is motivated by that desperation to be courageous.  She pushes her way through the crowd, “infecting” all those people, since (remember) she was unclean because of her hemorrhage, and she reaches out to touch this holy man, knowing that her touch basically makes him unclean as well, a great affront to a religious person.  “If I can only just touch him, I know I will be well.”   Unlike the father in the first story, she does not ask, she instead “takes” it - reaching out and touching him without speaking to him or asking for healing.

But she gets caught. Jesus feels the touch and asks the crowd about it despite everyone’s confusion since, as his disciples said, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘who touched me?’” And then the women performs another act of great courage: she comes before him trembling, falling down before him in shame and fear: and then she tells him everything, she admits to touching him, she tells the truth.

Jesus is again touched and moved by this woman’s courage and faith.  He is moved by her honesty and by her desperation.  He tells her to go in peace, he tells her that her very trust that he could hear her has made her well.  She was healed because she reached out to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT.

While Jesus is talking to the woman we are suddenly thrown back to the first story. Some people approach the synagogue leader “even as Jesus is speaking” to tell the father that his daughter has died and that there is no more to be done.  But Jesus calls them to even deeper faith.  He still goes, and he raises her from the dead.  This story is told in Matthew, Mark and Luke and is the first resurrection story in each of those gospels.  The first to be resurrected in the New Testament was this little daughter, this girl child, not someone normally considered important in that time or place.  Yet important enough to God to be the first to be raised from death. 

In each of the three Synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, the two stories of Jairus’ daughter and the woman with the hemorrhage are told together.  These stories are told together because they are both part of the same commandment.  Jesus’ second commandment to all of us is to love our neighbor as ourselves.  Mostly in church we focus on how much we need to love our neighbors and care for them as much as we care for ourselves.  But this story invites the reverse as well.  We are also called to love ourselves and take care of ourselves as much as to love our neighbors.  We are called by these stories to reach out for healing, for our loved ones, yes, for our

neighbors that we don’t even know - yes, AND for ourselves: to be courageous, to be bold, to even be outrageous and reach for the things we need to LIVE.  We are called to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT. 

            I want to point out that Jesus asks everyone to be quiet about what he has done.  He declares that the girl was not dead but asleep.  Why?  Well, in part, no doubt because the sooner he drew attention to himself, the less time he would have on earth to heal and proclaim his message.  But I believe there is another reason that is equally important here.  Jesus was restoring this little girl to her community.  Restoring her.  But if she became known as “the girl that was raised from the dead” she would not have been fully restored to the community.  She would have taken on solely that identity.  She might have been used as a political pawn: someone to be scorned by those who did not agree with Jesus: a lesson to be raised up by those who would have made her life difficult.  And an idol for those who followed Jesus.  No, his request to be quiet was for her sake as well.  We are called to live fully, to grasp life fully: and the courage that it takes to do that with integrity and with fullness should not be underestimated. 

I know this can be hard.  It is easier to ask for healing for our children, for example, than for ourselves.  While it might be hard to see how this is true in our own lives, we all know people who complain endlessly about ailments but never take the steps to heal them. At one point in time this stand of enduring problems without fixing them might have been considered self-less.  When my close friends’ aunt died, everyone said at her memorial service how giving and self-less she was.  But what that really meant was that she refused to seek help when she needed it, she refused to take care of herself at all, when things went wrong, she still declined seeking help.  And in the end that wasn’t really self-less at all.  She loved the attention she received because of all her pains and problems.  And she died early, leaving grieving and suffering children behind who would not have been motherless had she attended to her medical problems.  We are called not to live marginally through attention for our problems.  We are called to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT.

Many of you know the stories of Lance Armstrong, and of people like him, who have

become heroes for facing terrible illness and for fighting back against amazing odds.  In Lance’s case, he was faced with, some estimate, a 3 % chance of surviving his testicular cancer that had spread to brain and lungs and had metastasized.  But he decided to try an aggressive chemotherapy that ended the cancer.  He then took the next step of deciding to enter the cyclist racing world again, a challenge he describes as even greater than the fight back from cancer.  He had lost all his strength in his battle with cancer.  Yet he decided to be cancer free was not enough.  He felt the pull, the call, even, to become strong again, to learn to ride again.  After his battle with cancer he won seven Tour de Frances, the most won by any individual in the history of the race.  Lance chose not only to survive, but truly to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT.

Not all of us are Lance Armstrong.  Not all of us can find that kind of healing or at least, find the support and the doctors such as were available to Lance.  Sometimes, like the woman with the hemorrhage, we feel we’ve done all we can to heal ourselves.  We’ve spent all the money, we’ve gone to all the doctors.  And still we are no better.  But Jesus calls us even then to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT.  That can mean so many different things: it can mean selling what we have and in one final effort joining the peace corps or a mission group and serving with

the little time we have left.  It can mean simply reaching out to help someone who needs it.  It can mean taking the chance to heal a relationship that seems beyond repair: making the hard phone calls, writing the difficult letter.  It can mean leaving a relationship that is not life giving, even though it may involve giving up security, to try to find a life that has safety and meaning and godliness.  It can mean starting a new career, one that is truly following an inner calling.  For someone else, it might mean planting a garden full of beautiful flowers or vegetables and fruits: helping bring forth new life and beauty.  For another it might involve joining or starting a campaign for something that is really meaningful to you, getting more involved in the community.  It can mean trying alternative medicine and healing practices.  It can mean praying in a different way or with more attention and devotion.

The second scripture passage we read today came from the book of Jeremiah.  And in it, despite all signs that Israel and Judah were about to be completely destroyed, Jeremiah is choosing something incredibly hopeful.  He goes and buys a field.  In the midst of the destruction of his country, his community, his faith body, he goes and buys a field in an extraordinary vision of hope.  There are witnesses to this and the deed is put in a clay pot and preserved so that when they are in exile, they know that that field is waiting for their return.  He puts a concrete action into the future: and by doing so makes the statement that the Israelites will be restored to their own land and that it will bear fruit.  By the way, the place where he buys the land, Anathoth – that word means “answer to prayer”. 

Richard Rohr says that the only thing that changes people completely are a combination of great love and great suffering.  We have the great love: God offers that every single day.  But suffering also comes and we have a choice about what we do with what we experience.  How do we walk into the future when the world seems despairing, when our lives feel despairing?  We choose: do we become bitter or do we get better.  John Dewey said, “We do not learn from experience, we learn from reflecting on experience.” And that is a choice that we make.

While Jesus is not here today, I believe that offer to grasp life applies to us still.  We cannot touch Jesus, but we can touch the hem of his robe.  Our faith tells us that Jesus is with

us, in this very room.  And so, we too are invited to reach out and touch.  We touch the hem of his robe by asking for the support of one another.  We touch the fringe of his cloak by praying together in community.  We see Jesus in one another, we see Jesus in fellowship, in prayer, in worship.  We touch the hem of his robe by believing he is here among and within us and by having the courage to ask for help.  We touch the fringe of his cloak by reaching out to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT.

Again, I’m not saying that means everyone will be healed from every illness.  What I am saying is that all of us have been offered life, new life, whole life, through our faith.  Whatever that looks like for you, Jesus invites us to reach out, to touch the very hem of his robe, for our loved ones, for our neighbors, for enemies, and even for ourselves: to grasp life, to claim it, to LIVE IT.

A Word of Comfort

 Jeremiah 29:1, 4-14, Psalm 23, Mark 4:35-41

As we continue our journey through the book of Jeremiah, we have now come to the part in the book where the Israelites have been exiled.  They have experienced the consequences of their behavior, and they are now in Babylon, away from their home against their will, separated from the temple, lost and unable to return home.  They are in the pain.  But in that place of pain, of suffering, or struggle, God’s word is still coming to them.  God is still with them, and now God’s word is one of great comfort.  But also, one that may not be exactly what they want to hear. 

         God promises the community, and again it is very important here that this is the community of Israelites, the people of Israel and Judah that God is talking to, not individuals, but the community, that things will be better.  God promises that they will return to their home.  This exile is not forever.  This time of alienation and struggle is not eternal.  There will be a time of renewal.  God also promises and reassures them that in the meantime, even in their exile, God is still present with them.

        But the other side of this is that this is a future promise.  God tells them "things will be better in 70 years.”  They will be able to return home in 70 years!!  70 years was a full generation.  It was a number that meant “completion” or wholeness.  And again, this is part of how we know this promise is not for individuals, but for the large community.  None of those to whom God is now speaking will be alive to experience this return home.  None of those in despair and pain will live to see their return.  God even goes so far as to tell them they must ignore their hopes, ignore their dreams,  ignore those who are prophesying for a return home to come in their life times. 

            And I think, post-COVID, we can relate to this in a tiny way.  When COVID first hit, we all hoped it would be over in a couple weeks.  We would shut down and then in a couple weeks we’d be able to get back to normal.  The kids would go on early spring break for school, but they would return, surely, after just a couple weeks!  When that didn’t happen, it was, “well, they’ll be able to go back in the fall.”  And then, “in the spring”.  We kept putting our hopes on tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.  But sometimes having those hopes for the near future makes the disappointment greater.  It is easier to fall into despair when our hopes are being continually dashed.  So, Jeremiah warns against that.  “No.  It won’t be tomorrow or even in your lifetime.” 

But perhaps an even bigger issue is that when we have hopes that are imminent for a major change, for the possibility of renewal and a return to what is familiar or comforting or what we believe was “whole” for us, we often forget to live now.  We put it off.  “We will do that when things get back to normal.”  We will fix this, or go there, or see that person, or call that person, or heal that relationship, or work on our issues “when things get back to normal.” 

           And God through Jeremiah challenges this.  Jeremiah tells us that God’s call for us is clear, “Build houses and settle down; cultivate gardens and eat what they produce. Get married and have children; then help your sons find wives and your daughters find husbands in order that they too may have children. Increase in number there so that you don’t dwindle away.  Promote the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because your future depends on its welfare.”  In other words, LIVE.  Don’t put off living until you are able to return home, or return “to normal”.  Live now.  Do the things of living in this place and in this time.  We are called to preach the Good News, to live in faith, to do the work of our lives whether we are “in season” or “out of season”.  This was a very long “out of season” for the Israelites.  And while God called them not to just be okay with where they were in life but instead to continue to hope and trust in a future that was better, even while they were doing that,  still they were called to live.

           I want you to try to picture this.  These exiles were “forced immigrants”.  They were forced to be in another culture, in another place, away from their home and in terrible circumstances.  Think about the Africans who were brought here against their will: forced immigrants in this place.  Generations later, do they feel at home here?  Are they still experiencing discrimination?  You can still be an exile in your own country, the country of your birth if you are not respected and treated equally.  And this was the experience of these Israelites for 70 years.  That is a hard, hard place to be.  And it is to all exiles that this message of a future hope is spoken, but also a message of “live your lives NOW.”

            In the Church, big C, as we look at the shrinking numbers of people who identify as Christian, we often talk about the church, especially perhaps mainstream or progressive Christianity, as being in a wilderness time.  But the reality is that it is much more accurate to say that we are in exile.  In the wilderness there aren’t established institutions, everyone is wandering around, without grounding, without a sense of direction.  But when you are in exile, you are in another culture’s space, story and institutions.  Those around you do have grounding, are “at home”, and do have a sense of meaning, purpose and direction.  We have moved into a time of exile, as progressive Church, a time when the predominant culture goes two ways: into either a rejection of faith all together, or into a more fundamentalist stance.  As people who fit into neither position, we are in exile.  Part of how we know this is that it is when you are in exile that those in the dominant positions of the culture are given permission and it is even seen as “normal” for them to define who others are.  The fundamentalists define us as not being “real” Christians, of getting it wrong.  And the atheists or those of other faiths, or even those who define themselves as “spiritual but not religious” assume that even we in this building are fundamentalists and treat us as such.  Neither group is open to hearing something different.  Those in power have the power to define, and to insist that their definitions are the only ones worth attending to.  And so we are in exile, boxed, labelled and in many ways rejected.

          This last weekend I was outside watering my plants when someone that I’m generally friendly with passed by.  She had a baby a year ago and I was telling her that I would like to buy some of my favorite child-books for her daughter.  Her response was “Well, we don’t want any religious books.”  I was stunned, to be honest.  I’m not good on my feet, but if I had been I would have asked if, since she’s a CPA, if all the books she gives her kids are all about taxes.  Later that same day, I had a second experience like that.  Someone who had asked me to teach their child some basic piano skills wanted to be sure that I wasn’t going to teach their child “Christian music”.  These are people who know that we are at THIS church, where we fly a flag of inclusion, where they hired ME, a divorced and remarried female as a pastor!  But part of being in exile is that people in the dominant culture do not bother to feel they have to get to know you.  They do not feel they need to understand you.  They can ascribe to you and put on you all kinds of assumptions and if you argue against those assumptions, they will, more likely than not, assume you are LYING or hiding the truth.

            I remember when we were in Canada and I was wearing a CVPC t-shirt.  A lesbian couple got into the elevator with us, saw my shirt and immediately began to talk loudly with one another about how horrible and judgmental Christians are.  We didn’t know them, I didn’t engage the conversation, I understand why they believed that, but it again showed that assumptions made about us are manifold.  And do not apply to the folk here at this church.

          This is what it is to be in exile: to be strangers in a culture that is not your own.  But we cannot go back.  And the myth of “the good old days” is exactly that: a great big myth.  I would hope that we don’t really want to return to a time of slavery, or Jim Crow laws.  I certainly don’t want to return to a time, not much more than 50 years ago, when women could not BE pastors.  That nostalgic glorifying of the past is never of the true story. 

            But like in the Mark passage for today, when things become difficult, when things become stormy and those waves of trouble and tribulation are threatening, people forget that they had goal of getting somewhere specific, of sailing to the other side, or traveling to a specific place with a specific hope and goal for the future.  Instead, they replace this goal with the goal of basic survival, of simply staying afloat.  We are not called to just survive.  We are not called, out of fear, to put down living until things can “return” to what they were.  We are called to remember that in our frantic running around, trying to “survive” as a church, that Jesus is still in the boat, probably “in the way” even – something that cannot be ignored or overlooked as we trip over him to try to trim the sails.  He is there, calling for our attention and our focus, asking us to remember our call to LIVE, no matter what the circumstances are that we may face.

           The Good News it manifold.  There will be a time when we will no longer be in exile.  God is with us no matter what is going on with us.  The journey is bigger and longer and more beautiful than we can imagine.  And we are called into life THIS day.  We are invited to live NOW.  None of that may be easy.  Living in exile is a challenge.  But it teaches us compassion and understanding for those of our brothers and sisters who are also in exile.  For those who are suffering, for those who are treated as less than, for those rejected and oppressed by society.  We are invited to learn in our exile, to live in our exile, to continue the journey and not just simply focus on survival.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.