Lessons From the Journey: Charity Vs. Dignity

         This morning I found myself thinking about my time on Iona and in particular my encounter with the young man studying to be a Jesuit priest whom we had met on the bus around Mull.  There are only two places to eat dinner on Iona, so inevitably you encounter people that you've met before.  One night when David and I were at one of the two places, the student was there having dinner with one of the employees of the Abby.  It was fairly early and as a result, the four of us were the only ones in the room.  While David and I tried to focus on our own conversation, the conversation of the student and the employee became pretty heated at one point and was hard not to hear.

    It seems the young man was upset because the policy at the Iona Abby is that you can stay there, but it is in exchange for work.  He was upset because he felt that charity should be the value, and he should be allowed to stay without working. Again, we weren't trying to listen in, so much of the conversation we did not hear as we talked with one another as well, but that was the part I was able to gather, and it has caused me to reflect on the values of charity vs the importance of working for what you need.

    I think there is room for both, in different situations. But let me start by saying that there is great value in working for what you are given.  When I was a college student, I volunteered with several groups working to help the unhoused population in the Berkeley area.  One of those was the soup kitchen.  This particular soup kitchen "charged" those who came to eat a quarter per meal.  If the person did not have a quarter, they were invited to help out in the kitchen or with serving the food.  This was the policy of the soup kitchen because they found it gave some dignity back to those they fed. Those who came to eat felt they had paid for their meal, they had contributed.  They were not "charity cases" who could not help themselves, but were people who, like the rest of us, paid for what they were given.  Of course a quarter is a token amount.  But it made a difference in how those who paid for their meals felt, not only about the meal they were given, but also about themselves, as people capable of contributing.

    We tend to value more what we pay to have.  I've found this with our own church programs as well.  When we invite the kids in the community to come for VBS, music classes drama classes, or whatever it is, we have found consistently that if the parents don't pay, the kids are inconsistent in attending.  If the parents pay, even a small or token amount, the kids attend.  The families value it more because they have paid for it, even if the amount they pay is minimal.   

    I've also seen too many situations in which charity is another way of separating people from one another, putting folk into categories of "us" and "them."  For example, when churches are serving meals, providing laundry services, or even giving away clothing, many times the workers are wearing name tags and the guests aren't.  

    "Why?"  I've asked.  

    "Well," I've been honestly told, "it helps us keep track of who is the server and who is being served." 

    "Why is that necessary?"  I always ask again.  I've never received a satisfactory answer in response.  Would it be a terrible thing if the guests or clients helped out?  Would it be awful if some of those helping also used some of the resources that we are giving away?  Why must we separate people out?  It inevitably ends up feeling like some are "good" people doing and giving good things while the others are unworthy but are being graced with the charity.  Instead of seeing our common humanity and universal need, we see some as generous givers, and others as recipients or takers: "not us!"   

    So what is the argument, then, for pure charity?  For the recipients, the times I've been given something that I cannot pay back have been opportunities for humility on my part.  Sometimes we need the humility of learning to accept gifts that we cannot reciprocate or pay for.  On the other side of this, giving, truly giving, without expectation or even hope for a return is also an important lesson for us to learn.  It reminds us that all that we have is for the good of all God's people, not just ourselves.  It reminds us that we are deeply blessed by all that we have.  It has all come to us through grace, truly, and is lent to us for us to share.  It teaches us to be more generous and less greedy, to stop always looking for what we might gain from what we give.

    There are times when charity is necessary.  I spent a summer in Alabama working on fixing and building houses for people who could NOT pay at all for what they were being given.  It was different from Habitat for Humanity in that these were for people who were disabled, or elderly, or truly in situations where they could neither work nor pay anything in exchange for their abodes that we were either fixing or building.  These were necessary charities.  But I still found myself at times thinking that there were ways, still, that it could be and sometimes was, an exchange.  As we listened to the wisdom of those we served, as we heard their stories and their experiences, what we were given in many ways surpassed what we were giving.  

    I think it is important, always, to think through why we are choosing charity over finding ways to give the dignity of an exchange.  I think it is important to be more intentional in this.  Always.  

Footwashing - The Third Sacrament

John 13:1-17

Psalm 51:7-12

    How many sacraments are there in the Presbyterian church?  Two. And what are they?  Communion and Baptism.

    How do we define “sacrament” then?  Something Jesus did, something he had done to him, and something that he calls us to do for each other.  Obviously this is different in some other denominations.  

     Catholicism: “Sacraments are efficacious signs of grace, instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church, through which Divine life is given. There are seven Sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Sick, Matrimony, and Holy Orders. Sacraments are classified as Christian Initiation (Baptism, Confirmation and the Eucharist), Sacraments of Healing (Reconciliation and Anointing of the Sick), and Sacraments of Commitment (Matrimony and Holy Orders).”

      Similarly, for more conservative Lutherans, “The Lutheran sacraments are "sacred acts of divine institution". These Lutherans believe that, whenever they are properly administered by the use of the physical component commanded by God along with the divine words of institution, God is, in a way specific to each sacrament, present with the Word and physical component. And for them there are also seven.  

       But for our sister church, the ELCA, as well as the Methodist church and the UCC there are also only two and they are same two that we have.

       According to our Book of Order, The Sacraments are “gifts of God for the people of God. They are a visible, tangible, and even taste-able way of experiencing God’s immeasurable grace and unfathomable goodness—the same grace and goodness we have come to know above all through Jesus Christ, God’s Word made flesh. The Sacraments are “signs” and “seals”—signs of God’s gracious promise and seals of God’s life-giving Word. They show us who God is and what God has done for us and for our salvation in Jesus Christ, expressing God’s claim upon our lives and confirming Christ’s calling to be faithful disciples. At the same time, the Sacraments provide a way for us to respond to God’s grace and goodness with our gratitude and praise, offering our lives in joyful service. The Sacraments unite past, present, and future. We remember the history of God’s saving work and proclaim the mystery of faith: the dying and rising of Christ for the salvation of the world (see Romans 6:3–4 and 1 Corinthians 11:26). We rejoice in the presence of the risen Christ and celebrate the new things that God is doing in the world, here and now. We also look with hope to the day of Christ’s coming again, at the dawning of God’s new creation. The Sacraments are Trinitarian events. They represent our celebration of, and participation in, the redeeming work of Jesus Christ. As noted above, they are gifts of God’s goodness and grace. We receive these gifts only by the power of the Holy Spirit, who also works through the Sacraments to equip us for ministry in Christ’s name. Therefore, in the Sacraments we give honor and glory to God Almighty, through Christ, with Christ, and in Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.”

      So then, given all of that, and especially the first statements that sacraments are three things: something Jesus had done to or for him, something Jesus did himself and something he calls us to do: are there other things that we should define as sacraments?  

What was foot washing then?  Feet are dirty: they work hard.  But it was also touch:  intimacy.  

        But not only do we not consider it a sacrament now, but we tend to avoid it like the plague.  When services do choose to have foot washing, we always also offer hand washing.  We offer it because we recognize that it is very, very hard for some people to participate in it.  Why is this one so hard for us?  Humiliating?  Embarrassing?  Uncomfortable?  We don’t usually think of our feet as “private” but they are, aren’t they?  Having another human being touch, or clean our feet is scary.  It is vulnerable.  Similarly, touching another person’s feet is vulnerable.  I think the closest we get to this currently in our culture is going for a massage.  If you’ve never had a massage, let me tell you, it is a very vulnerable thing to both experience and to offer to another.  When I have had massages, I always wonder, “what will they judge about my body?  Will they find that mole on my back disgusting?  Will they avoid that scar on my foot?”  Putting those aside and accepting what they offer is only made easier by the fact that I pay them to do it.  So then with foot washing: you offer your feet to someone, perhaps someone you value, perhaps someone you don’t know at all.  But there is no payment.  It is a gift given and a gift received.  And that can be very, very hard.  

I think we tend to believe that somehow it must have been a less vulnerable act during biblical times.  But it wasn’t.  Foot washing then, too, was a very intimate and personal act.  It was also a deep service.  And to do it, to serve another in this way of washing another’s feet required a great deal of humility.  Just as allowing your feet to be washed requires and required a great deal of humility.  That conversation where Peter struggled to accept the foot washing offered to him by Jesus shows just how hard it was.  Peter LOVED Jesus.  But to accept this kind of act from him?  It did not seem right, it was too vulnerable, for both of them, to comfortably accept.  

But those acts of service, those acts of caring, those acts of loving matter so much more than we can ever, ever imagine.  

I want to share with you a personal story.  Three years ago now my C5 group: Contra Costa Clergy Cohort went to Alabama to look at our history around racism.  We went to the Lynching Museum, and we went to the church that had been bombed, killing 5 young African American girls who were about to be baptized.  We went to many of the historical sites from the Civil Rights Movement.  It was a very disturbing trip, but an incredibly important one.  But the truth is that I knew it would be hard.  So when one of our folk here died, someone I really, deeply loved and valued, the “excuse” not to go was a welcome one.  Then it came that the date that had been picked for the memorial was during the time I was supposed to be gone.  I called the leaders of the trip, told them of my dilemma, and then prayed.  I prayed hard.  And despite the difficulty of the anticipated trip, I decided I really, unfortunately, had to go.  I needed to learn.  I needed to experience everything that there was there to learn, and I needed to do it with this amazing group of pastors, many of whom were African American and would give me a very unique and personal perspective.  I went.  The trip was as hard as I anticipated, but was also deeply, deeply important for my own learning and for the connections we have since made that led us to develop our amazing Belong Circle of communion with our sisters from an African American congregation.  

What was unexpected for me was a conversation that we all had after returning from our trip.  The C5 group of pastors and faith leaders who had gone on the trip met to discuss and debrief the experience.  One of the questions that was asked was “what was the most impactful event of the trip for you.”  One of the Faith in Action leaders, an African American faith leader from Oakland stood up and said to the group, “This will surprise you, I have no doubt.  But the event that had the biggest impact for me on this trip was Barbara’s decision to go on the trip, despite the fact that this meant she would not be able to participate in the memorial service of her parishioner.  That gave me hope.  That a white woman would choose to face the horrible truths of the country’s very racist and violent history over the celebration of life of someone she valued.  It gave me the hope to believe that maybe other white people are also ready and willing to hear, to learn, to listen and to be present, to be an ally with those of us struggling in this country.”  He was right that it surprised me.  It also humbled me, deeply.  I didn’t think my presence on the trip mattered.  I had thought I had gone for my own learning.  I had not the slightest, smallest idea that the decision to go would matter so much to this man.  

The truth is we have no idea who we impact or how.  We have no idea what is an act of service to others.  We are called to show up, to wash feet when we have the opportunity to do so, to be present when we are asked.  Choosing vulnerability, choosing openness with one another makes more difference than we can know.  

In the church we tend to put on a shield of “propriety”.  We wear our best clothes, we put on appropriate behavior.  We are guarded.  James Angell in his book, “Yes is a world” wrote, “Church ought to be a set of moments when we become most expansively, openly and honestly ourselves.  Yet it is in the church where we often find it hardest to be ourselves: where we are often the most guarded, the most paranoid, the most unsure of being accepted and understood.”  The church is a place in which, every Sunday, we take time to acknowledge our brokenness and our need for God’s forgiveness to make us whole.  And yet still, we hide – from each other, from the world, and maybe even from God.  Nowhere is this more evident than in our avoidance of foot washing.

Amy Frykholm, who writes for the Christian Century, wrote, “The history of the church does not necessarily confirm this instinct of mine. To me foot washing has a sacramental quality—a place where heaven meets earth, where the scandal of the incarnation is as vivid and present as it is in the Eucharist. But foot washing has never been a sacrament. In fact, church historians have found no instances in which the idea of foot washing as a sacrament was even considered. John’s Gospel is the only one to mention foot washing. The passage in John begins with the briefest mention of the supper that would become so central to the Christian tradition. Instead, the passage introduces foot washing via a declaration of Jesus’ love in the context of the betrayal that will lead to his death. ‘And during supper, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself.’”

In my lectionary bible study group the question was asked, what if, instead of the last supper that is present in the synoptic gospels, we had instead adopted the sacrament of footwashing as a regular practice?  How would the church be different?  What if, instead of being fed regularly in our church services, we were invited into service: serving one another through foot washing regularly?  Remember that Jesus washed Judas’ feet too.  And if we were called each month or each week to wash the feet of one another, perhaps people we aren’t close to, perhaps people we don’t even like, what would that have done for us as a church?  Perhaps we would not be so very proper.  

Fred Rogers, whom most of you know as Mister Rogers also saw the deep sacramental quality of foot washing.  Francois Clemmons, became the first African American to have a recurring role in a children’s TV show when he was hired to play the part of the policeman in Mister Roger’s Neighborhood.  At some point he was interviewed about one episode in particular.  Mr. Rogers was sitting on a hot day, resting his feet in a plastic baby pool of water.  He invited Clemmons to come and join him.  To quote Clemmons,  “The icon Fred Rogers not only was showing my brown skin in the tub with his white skin as two friends, but as I was getting out of that tub, he was helping me dry my feet.” That scene, which was revisited in their very last episode together in 1993 touched Clemmons very, very deeply and in a way he had not expected.  Mr. Rogers, a Presbyterian minister, had washed his feet.  It was extremely personal, and extremely sacramental.  

     This Maundy Thursday we will probably have foot washing as part of the service, and I invite you to take the time now, during lent, to think through whether you are willing to be real, to be open, to be vulnerable with each other.  I invite you to consider whether you will allow another human to touch your feet, to clean your feet, to be with you in that way.  I also invite you to consider whether you will be willing to offer to clean another’s feet in return.  We are all called both to serve and to be served.  And in this particularly vulnerable way we have a unique opportunity to try something new.  

Foot washing is a reminder of water, of being washed, of serving and being served, of God’s call to us to step out, try things that may normally not be comfortable, to look for God in those uncomfortable feelings, events and situations, to look for God in the unexpected.  I hope that we can find ways to honor and remember this third sacrament with more intentionality.  Amen.

Consolation

2 Corinthians 1:1-11,

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

               Last week we finished our study of the book of Job and this week we begin a study of 2^nd Corinthians.  So today I want to give you a bit of background on this book in the Bible and then focus specifically on today’s passage from 2^nd Corinthians as well as the passage from Matthew.

To give you a little background on this book, 1^st and 2^nd Corinthians are actually made of fragments of a number of letters to the Corinthians.  And these are an interesting couple of books because Paul is writing to a community that is unhappy with him, a community with whom he is in conflict.  They are upset with him for a number of reasons: some involving money – he wouldn’t take money in the form of a collection for his work from them, but he had taken money from the Macedonians, which some saw as a slight; apparently he made some statement about refusing money for his labor which had shamed some of the other leaders in Corinth who have taken up a collection; some felt his working with his hands was inconsistent with the life of an apostle; and some didn’t like that he used frankness as a means of asking for affection.  Also, he had promised a visit which apparently never took place.  And finally some in the Corinthian community came to a place of wanting to “test” his apostleship which deeply offended Paul.

Today’s passage comes from a fragment that is believed to be from his fourth letter to the Corinthians and includes all of 2^nd Corinthians 1-9.  As we hear, he is taking several steps to get into a better relationship with the Corinthians.  He pairs himself with Timothy because Timothy has a good relationship with the Corinthians, and he extends the letter to “all the saints throughout Achaia,” because the Achaians, too, were in a good relationship with Paul.  Paul’s wish of peace for them is a naming of his wish for reconciliation.  He emphasizes that Christians are not isolated from each other, that they are all partners in suffering and in receiving God’s comfort, and he tries to drum up some pity in his description of his suffering in Asia to try to soften their hearts towards him.

I think all of this behavior is familiar to us.  We’ve all done or seen others do similar things in attempts to heal or reconcile relationships, and Paul is very human in this way.  We will look at this in more depth in the upcoming weeks.  But for today, that should give you a solid background for proceeding through the book of 2^nd Corinthians.

Where I want to go in terms of today’s scriptures, both from 2^nd Corinthians and from Matthew is to take some time to look at human efforts and work, and the results of those efforts. In many ways, Paul comes from the exact opposite place from Job.  While Job and his friends came to their experiences with the belief that those who did good would have good lives and those who did bad would have bad lives; that the sign of being a good person was none other than having riches and comforts in this life (an idea that was overthrown by the rest of the book), Paul starts from the exact opposite place.  Paul is very clear that people of faith WILL suffer.  For Paul, association with the gospel guarantees being at cross purposes with the world, and experiencing affliction, distress and opposition.   If you choose to follow Christ, you WILL suffer, according to Paul.  We know Jesus did – he died because of his standing up for the oppressed and poor, for preaching love in the face of a society that valued law more.  And Paul, also experienced persecution for preaching Jesus’ message and gospel.  The ways of Christ are exactly opposite to the values of the world: they do not encourage riches, comforts and ease for oneself but instead ask us to give all we have and follow.  This will bring suffering, it will bring conflict, it will bring anger, opposition, persecution and affliction.  As a quote by Charles Bowen sent to me this week says it, “The rain, it raineth on the just, and also on the unjust fellow, but mainly on the just because the unjust steals the just's umbrella."  Paul is clear about that, just as Jesus was. 

The story from Matthew today similarly pointed out that no matter what you do in terms of doing the work of God, abuse will follow.  If you are truly doing the work of God, the work of Jesus, you will be in conflict with the world.  And that means that you will feel at times that you are getting nowhere in the work that you do.  But still, you are being called to be a sower, like God.  And if you are truly doing God’s work, you will experience some of it falling on land that is rocky, some that falls on shallow soil, some roots that look like they have planted will be torn out by the winds of concern over wealth, power, politics, and worldly comforts.

Being a person of faith, really looking at these scriptures and trusting in them is not for the faint of heart.  And trying to do the work of God in a world that focuses and values and uplifts those with money, power and fame - it is hard.  It is frustrating beyond measure.  I will tell you honestly that there are times when I despair.  What am I doing?  Have my words made one iota of difference in the way people live their lives?  Are people more faithful, more generous, more committed to caring for the poor and oppressed in any way because of things that I have said or done? Has my work made any kind of positive difference in this place or in the world?  Or am I just throwing seed on concrete?  This is especially true when sometimes I will preach a heartfelt sermon and have someone say to me, “that is exactly what I needed to hear today.” And then they will say something that is exactly opposite of what I tried to communicate. 

I remember doing a bible study in which the pastor was discussing the fact that his sermons made little difference and how he then decided to do everything differently and now his congregation lives in intentional poverty, giving almost all they have to the poor in some truly amazing ways.  And I hear stuff like that and know I don’t have the power, authority or charisma to make anything like that happen.  So it’s easy to start feeling that the seed I’ve tried to scatter is no good, that I have no chance of doing the work God wants me to do. 

I know I’m not alone in this.  Whole faith communities can start to feel like they are not really succeeding.  Congregations yearn for younger families and when they don’t come they can feel that they are failing at planting any kind of seed.  They aren’t succeeding.  Within our own families it can feel this way.  Talking to our teenagers, talking to family members with whom we disagree can feel like beating our heads against the wall. 

I want to share a story with you that I found in a commentary: Theodore J. Wardlaw wrote:

I once caught a glimpse of God and God's mercy in such a place. I was with a group of civic leaders—lawyers, politicians, foundation representatives, journalists—touring various outposts of our city's criminal justice system. It was near the end of the day, and we were visiting the juvenile court and detention center. That place was so depressing, its landscape marked by wire-mesh gates with large padlocks and razor wire wrapped around electrified fences. When the doors clanged shut behind us, I imagined how final they must always sound when adolescents—children!—are escorted there. We were led, floor by floor, through this facility by an amazing young judge who worked there. She showed us the holding cells where the new inmates are processed. She showed us the classrooms where an ongoing education is at least attempted. She showed us the courtrooms where cases are prosecuted.

Near the end of our tour, she led us down one bleak hall to give us a sense of the cells where young offenders lived. Each cell had a steel door with narrow slots about two-thirds of the way up, through which various pairs of eyes were watching us as we walked down the hall. Some of these children were accused of major crimes; some of them were repeat offenders. Most of them, we learned, had had little or no nurture across their brief lives—not from a primary adult who cared about them, not from family, not from neighborhood, not from church. It was hard to notice those eyes staring through narrow slots without doing something. So I lingered at one door and whispered to one pair of eyes: "God loves you." The eyes did not appear to register much, and sometimes I wonder what, if anything, happened next. Did that news fall on the path to get eaten by birds? Did it fall among thorns to get choked out? I will never know.

As the tour went on, the cumulative effect of all this brokenness got to one member of our group, who finally just stopped in the hallway and began to cry. When the judge noticed this, she paused in her narration, walked back and put her arms around that person, and, with tears in her own eyes, said, "I know. I understand."

I thought to myself, "If I am ever to be judged, I want a judge like that." Then it dawned on me—like a seed thrown onto my path—that indeed I do have a judge like that! …

Ultimately, though, with all due respect to the well-meaning allegorist, this parable is not so much about good soil as it is about a good sower. This sower is not so cautious and strategic as to throw the seed in only those places where the chances for growth are best. No, this sower is a high-risk sower, relentless in indiscriminately throwing seed on all soil—as if it were all potentially good soil. On the rocks, amid the thorns, on the well-worn path, maybe even in a jail!

Which leaves us to wonder if there is any place or circumstance in which God's seed cannot sprout and take root.

(Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary - Feasting on the Word – Year A, Volume 3: Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16).

Stories like today’s passage from Matthew are encouraging.  And this parable in particular is extremely comforting.  We all know that soil can surprise us.  We can plant things in the best possible way and have the plants die.  We can avoid planting things where we know they can’t possibly grow and discover something gorgeous growing there on its own.  Different soils lead to the growth of different plants, but beautiful, fruitful plants seem to grow in all kinds of different types of soil.  And things happen that can give us pause to think.  A friend of mine told me that she had a beautiful planter and she took great care to prepare the soil, to make sure everything was right and she planted petunias in it.  But they wouldn’t grow.  In a weird fluke, however, she noticed one day that apparently some of the petunia seeds had fallen out of the planter and had planted themselves in the crevice in the concrete near the planter box.  And out of this crevice she found that there was a beautiful petunia plant growing! 

The surprise of today’s parable story is not the frustration of years of planting work that ends up with most of the plants failing for one reason or another.  Instead, the miracle here is that despite persecution, lure of wealth, hardened hearts and “evil” that there are still disciples: that despite all the values of the world and the lure of wealth and fame, and the greed and “me, me, me” thinking, that there are still people who learn to love those who are different from them, those who are “other”, those who don’t have the same color, or background or social or economic class.  And that is an amazing, miraculous gift from God.  We are called to speak God’s truth of love.  We are called to work for justice and empowerment of all people.  We are called to feed and to serve and to offer grace in unexpected places.  We don’t know who will take what we do and run with it, grow from it, learn from it, deepen in their faith and their trust in God and in love.  We don’t know, but we are called to have faith in God’s abundance, to follow God’s model for sowing in abundance and trusting in abundant results.  Note that God, here, is not a “good business person”.  God doesn’t care about that, doesn’t measure value around that at all.  God, as the sower, throws the seed EVERYWHERE.  On the hard rock, on the weedy patches, on the shallow soil; trusting that there will be growth somewhere and that even one seed that sprouts is worth the effort of the sowing. 

Note also, that in part the success of all of this seed is not just on the sower, but on the community.  Do we help to till the soil?  Do we feed, water, and care for the seed that God has scattered?  And so, too, when we scatter seed: when we speak words of hope and truth and love.  It is not just up to us to do the work.  We have a community that then must take those seeds and nurture them, plant them deeper, do the work of caring for the plants that have begun to grow. 

There is a story of a man who moved to a new community that had incredibly rocky, inhospitable soil.  He tilled the ground, he mixed the soil with good soil, he nurtured and cared for the area and after years and years of hard work, he had an incredibly beautiful garden.  One day a visitor to the area came by and said to the man, “wow, God has created an amazing garden here!” To which the man replied, “well, when it was just up to God it was a mess!”  The point is that God includes us in the work of sowing and caring for the earth.  And that is NOT just about other people, and this applies on the small scale as well. 

What I mean is that we all have places within each of us, every single one of us, that are rocky, that are weedy, and that are shallow.  And we need to be intentional, not only about learning, and listening, but about beating those rough rocky places within into a softer soil, adding nurturing soil to the most inhospitable places inside of us, making sure we water and feed the soil of our lives so that we have fertile places where words, wisdom, love, compassion and grace can grow, being available for opportunities to get to know and hear new people and new things. 

What does any of this have to do with God?  Well, as Paul said, God’s consolation comes in measure to the suffering.  And it is always in great abundance.  When Jesus here in the parable of Matthew describes the yield – one hundred to one in some cases, or even the thirty to one in another case, he is talking about enormous abundance.  For a farmer, a 30 to one yield is enough to feed a village for a year.  A hundredfold would allow the farmer to “retire to a villa by the Sea of Galilee”.  That is the abundance of God.

But in the end we have to remember that ultimately we are not in charge of the outcome.  Our job is simply to do that which is in front of us to do.  We then have to let go of the results.  It reminds me of a scene from the movie “28 days”.  In the movie, everyone is at a rehab center dealing with their various addictions.  The main character, Gwen is talking with a professional baseball player.  She picks up a ball throws it at the mat that he has set up to practice his pitching and ball goes wild.  “Great” she says, “just one more thing I’m terrible at.”

“What were you thinking about?  When you threw the ball?”

“… I don’t know… the mattress.  You’re thinking about hitting the mattress”

“Well, that might sound funny to you but that’s all wrong.  You get all locked in on the strike zone and the next thing you know it’s looking about the size of a peanut. And you’re thinking, ‘wow!  I got to get that little ball in there?’  And you’ve psyched yourself right out of the game.  The strike zone, the call, the count, the batter… forget all that!  You got to think about the little things.  The things you can control.  You can control your stance, your balance, your release, your follow through.  Try to think about those little things and only those little things.  Cause you know, when you let go of the ball, it’s over.  You don’t have any say over what happens down there.  That’s somebody else’s job.”

I think about the Amy Grant song, “All I ever have to be”

“… And all I ever have to be is what you made me.  Any more or less would be a step out of your plan.  As you daily recreate me, help me always keep in mind, that I only have to do what I can find.  And all I ever have to be is what you made me.”

All we have to do is what is in front of us to do, and to trust that God will take care of the rest.  Our job therefore is not just to sow the seed, but to celebrate the abundant harvest when it comes, to celebrate when seed grows and people experience life in new ways.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Disagreements in Faith Communities

         When the PCUSA made the decision in 2013 to ordain LGBTQ+ people, there was a strong push back from many people in our churches.  Many people who had wanted this inclusion had hung in with the church for a very long time before the decision was made.  They had chosen to stay within a body even when things were different from what they believed to be right, to be moral.  They stayed, and worked for change.  However, when the decision was made to open up our ordination limitations, many people who disagreed with this new decision left their individual congregations and many congregations left the denomination.  Many people grieved that loss of those members, but more, I think they struggled to understand why they were expected to stay despite disagreements when other's had their way, but those same others would not in turn stay if they did not have things going their way.
       Regardless, the choice for those other churches to leave has, in many ways, made other decisions in the national church easier.  As a denomination we are more on the same page now, the great differences in our opinions and beliefs are hugely lessened in the wake of those who have left.  While the decision to leave made a big statement, it was a one-time statement that left no room for any weigh-in on any future decisions.  And that, then, is the cost of leaving.  Once you have left, your voice no longer carries the weight it had when you were willing to still be in conversation with those with whom you disagreed.  You can no longer impact decisions, you no longer have sway or persuasive authority.  Your last vote, your last voice, was cast when you left.  The denomination as a whole has swung, has moved, because the "center" is now in a very different place than it was before congregations and individuals left the church.
         One of the things I find interesting about this, though, is that while we have fewer disagreements within our denomination now, in some ways those disagreements are now more heated.  It seems that when the church mirrors yourself more fully, the disagreements are more painful.  There is more "buy-in" when the body is less diverse in opinion and looks more like you in terms of values.  And so when that body disagrees, that disagreement seems more painful.
         All of this is true on the smaller scale as well.  I remember reading somewhere that by year five of a pastorate, a congregation tends to look like its pastor.  I also remember thinking as I read the article that I didn't think this was actually accurate for most Presbyterian churches.  Certainly it has not been accurate for the churches I have served.  Presbyterian churches, for those who don't know, aren't run by their pastors.  They are run by sessions, or boards, that make the decisions for the congregations.  Pastors are "teaching elders" which means we teach, we preach; our power is persuasion and not ultimate authority.  In contrast, the elders who serve on our sessions are "ruling elders" - they make the decisions for the congregation.  I have yet to be part of a congregation in which every decision made by the session was something I agreed with.  And that remains true no matter how long I've been in a church.  I served one church for 8 1/2 years and at the time of my leaving there were still decisions made with which I disagreed.  That was also the case with the next congregation where I served 6 1/2 years.  And this is true of the church where I have been serving for the last five years as well.
            And what has been interesting to me is that, just as debates in the larger church seem more painful when the body tends to be more homogenous in terms of beliefs, decisions in the more homogenous congregations (theologically) tend to be impacted at a deeper level too.  My last congregation was extremely theologically and politically diverse.  When decisions were made that some people did not agree with, it was easier to shrug them off, to delight in the diversity of opinions and differences.  For myself, besides enjoying the different voices and remembering that the body of Christ contains all different parts, I would remember that as the pastor, I was a servant to the congregation, but that I was not a member of the congregation.  The church was the people who made up the membership of the congregation.  And I was there to pastor them, but it was, ultimately, not my church.  Pastors come and go, but the church remains the people. That distinction may feel strange, but it is and was a necessary distinction.  I was there to guide, to encourage, to give my insight from a theological perspective.  But I was not there to control, to insist or even to "lead" in the sense of taking charge and determining the future of the church.
           But I see that in my current congregation, which in many ways is more theologically homogenous, when disagreements do arise, the pain of difference, the pain of disagreement, seems so very much harder to take for everyone involved.  And again, I think that's a symptom of the homogeny that has been shared.  Is this a good thing?  There are definitely gifts in hearing voices of difference.  There are also definite gifts in being like-minded in terms of being able to make a difference and impact the world around us in a more definite way.
           I think the trick in all of this is to find balance, always.  And to learn some tolerance for different opinions.  We can't grow unless we hear other voices.  And we can't make a difference unless we are saying something in a different way or with a different voice than others have inside their own heads.  So the questions of who we want to be in the world, what kind of difference we choose to make, and how we want to be in relationship to one another are important.  Especially in this time of increased polarization, sitting around the table with different opinions and voices is necessary and invaluable.  When we leave the conversation, we can no longer contribute in that way.  Maybe your reason for staying in a church community should not be because that community serves you, supports your beliefs, and validates your thinking.  Perhaps your reason to stay should instead be because the church needs you, your voice, your opinions, and your vision.   Are we here to give or to receive?  Are we here to serve or to be served?  I understand that this does not always make our communities and conversations comfortable.  But is the goal really our comfort?  Jesus never called us to be comfortable.  Jesus called us to heal, to bring justice, and to be willing to lose our lives in order to gain them.  Therefore, these questions are the questions we must ask as people of faith.

Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Luke 23:33-43

On Christ the King Sunday we celebrate and remember that Christ had many roles and functions, and that one of them is as King, King of us, King of creation, King of all.  But the underlying question is, Who is this Christ?  Who is this king? 

When we think of royalty, when we think about rulers of any kind, we have certain visions in our minds.  We have certain understandings of the kind of strength, power, and authority that it takes to lead a world, a country, a state, a city. 

But always, always, when it comes to God, when it comes to Christ, we are handed a vision and understanding that does not,  and frankly cannot, be anything like what we think.   In order to understand this king, I think it can be helpful to return to our original Biblical stories of what a ruler and king are. 

The Hebrew people were told, from the beginning, that God was their God.  They were told that because of who God is, God’s strong presence in their lives, God’s overarching leadership and most of all, God’s amazing and faithful love, that the Hebrew people needed no other ruler, no other guide.   But the Israelites were scared.  They were scared to be a nation without a clear leadership who could defend them, lead them into battle, show them as a united and strong people.  They insisted, they asked for a ruler.  God gave them judges, people who could help them make decisions and interpret right from wrong.  But again, these were not what the people wanted.  They were afraid.  They didn’t believe they could rely on God alone against other nations.  We hear the rest of this story in the book of 1^st Samuel, chapter 8.   “Now when Samuel got old, he appointed his sons to serve as Israel’s judges. ² The name of his oldest son was Joel; the name of the second was Abijah. They served as judges in Beer-sheba. ³ But Samuel’s sons didn’t follow in his footsteps. They tried to turn a profit, they accepted bribes, and they perverted justice. ⁴ So all the Israelite elders got together and went to Samuel at Ramah. ⁵ They said to him, “Listen. You are old now, and your sons don’t follow in your footsteps. So appoint us a king to judge us like all the other nations have.” ⁶ It seemed very bad to Samuel when they said, “Give us a king to judge us,” so he prayed to the Lord. ⁷ The Lord answered Samuel, “Comply with the people’s request—everything they ask of you—because they haven’t rejected you. No, they’ve rejected me as king over them. ⁸ They are doing to you only what they’ve been doing to me from the day I brought them out of Egypt to this very minute, abandoning me and worshipping other gods. ⁹ So comply with their request, but give them a clear warning, telling them how the king will rule over them.”  Then Samuel explained everything the Lord had said to the people who were asking for a king.  “This is how the king will rule over you,” Samuel said: “He will take your sons, and will use them for his chariots and his cavalry and as runners for his chariot.  He will use them as his commanders of troops of one thousand and troops of fifty, or to do his plowing and his harvesting, or to make his weapons or parts for his chariots.  He will take your daughters to be perfumers, cooks, or bakers.  He will take your best fields, vineyards, and olive groves and give them to his servants.  He will give one-tenth of your grain and your vineyards to his officials and servants. ¹⁶ He will take your male and female servants, along with the best of your cattle and donkeys, and make them do his work.  He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and then you yourselves will become his slaves!  When that day comes, you will cry out because of the king you chose for yourselves, but on that day the Lord won’t answer you.”   But the people refused to listen to Samuel and said, “No! There must be a king over us  so we can be like all the other nations. Our king will judge us and lead us and fight our battles.”   Samuel listened to everything the people said and repeated it directly to the Lord.  Then the Lord said to Samuel, “Comply with their request. Give them a king.”

So the people were given kings.  And we’ve had those kings as models for us ever since.  We have come to expect that rulers are people who provide us at least a modicum of stability or protection, but that do so at a very high price.  We expect this.  No matter where you stand politically, or who you support or what kind of government you value, we all know that there are costs we’d rather not pay to having human leadership, human rulers.  Still, we don’t feel “safe” without them.

And yet, God continues to show us another way.  God continues to show us God’s way.  And God’s way is different.  And when we could not see it from what the judges had to say, and when we could not accept it based on what the prophets had to say, and when we could not live it based on what God said to us through scriptures and stories and people and history, God finally sent God’s son to us.  God sent Jesus to show us this other way, this different way.  Jesus came, the real king, the ultimate king, who acts nothing like we expect or understand rulers or leaders to behave.  He doesn’t walk around with body guards protecting his every step.  He doesn’t insist on taking from us to increase his wealth or to pad the pockets of his friends.  He doesn’t take from the poor to give to the rich and he doesn’t take from any of us for his own need or his family’s need.  He doesn’t build a strong defense system or any kind of defense system at all.  Instead, instead he shows us something very, VERY different.  He feeds anyone who comes to him hungry.  He heals anyone who comes to him sick (and sometimes even the dead such as Talitha and Lazarus).  He listens and allows even the most rejected, the least “acceptable”, the least “worthy” to physically touch him.  He includes children, women, people of different nationalities and backgrounds such as the Serophoenician and the Samaritans.  He doesn’t reject them because they aren’t “the chosen ones” or part of his nation.  He includes tax collectors and prostitutes and doesn’t reject them because their behavior is wrong and isn’t what we deem acceptable.  He doesn’t take their wealth and live in a big mansion with servants or luxury items.  He lives poorly, simply, and asks for nothing in return.  He relies on the kindness of strangers and does not worry about his own survival or well-being.  He leads with truth rather than threats or fear or negotiations. 

And when THIS king, this king that we cannot understand, this king who acts completely differently from what we want or expect or demand from our human rulers, when this king is killed, as of course he would inevitably be, this king still, on the cross, in his dying moments, behaves completely differently from any king we can imagine.  He doesn’t send for his troops to rescue him.  He doesn’t call for a start of war or revenge.  He doesn’t threaten the end to those who did this to him.  He doesn’t shout out “you will be sorry”, and he doesn’t fight back in any way.

Instead, as he hangs there on the cross, as he dies, as he suffers the deepest pain, and he continues to think about others, others who are suffering.  And again, it isn’t the “good” people he worries about in that moment.  It is anyone, anyone at all who is suffering.  He is hanging on the cross next to two people who have done terrible wrongs, who are being killed as criminals for some atrocity or another.  Maybe they were both murderers.  Maybe they killed children.  We aren’t told.  What we are told is that in that moment Jesus doesn’t ask.  He doesn’t care what they have done.  What he cares about is that they are scared and suffering.  And in that moment, this king, who does not “rescue” them or himself, even when he is goaded on to do so, instead, in that moment, as he suffers, hanging on the cross – he offers to the criminal crucified next to him the promise of paradise.  He reaches out with the strength of knowledge and love that goes beyond any personal suffering, and he offers life, real life, to the scared and dying human, imperfect person next to him. 

This is the KING that we are given, the REAL king, the savior, our God.  He does not jump off the cross to save himself, despite the pain, and the inevitable death that he faces.  He does not “negotiate” or buy popularity or play politics.  He lives life following God to the fullest, and he pays for it with death, a death he accepts even while he loves and cares for those around him, even those whom, like this criminal next to him, we would probably not deem worthy of that love or care.

Walter Brueggermann said it this way – “Every (government) regime is frightened…..  It is the vocation of the prophet to keep alive the ministry of imagination, to keep on conjuring and proposing alternative futures to the single one the (earthly) king wants to urge as the only thinkable one.”  Well, again, the king that we see, the king that Jesus presents is not this kind of king.  This is the king who IS the prophet, who IS the artist…who takes all of our understandings of rulers and leadership and what it is to command people, and he turns them on their head. 

This week is Thanksgiving.  And then we begin Advent.  And all of them, Christ the King, Thanksgiving, and Advent connect… all are about seeing God in the unexpected places, being grateful because we have seen God, and expecting that God, Christ, King, Jesus as a baby – will not be what we expect. 

I struggled with the sermon this week.  I struggled to write it because I am saying the same thing that is being said across the country on this Christ the King Sunday.  That Christ the King is nothing at all like the kings and leaders we think we need.  That instead Christ the King is the King GOD wants us to have – a king of love, compassion, service, selflessness, faithfulness – God wants us to have nothing else but God for our king, our leader, our ruler.  What is new in that?  What new word can I bring that you have not heard every year on this Sunday?  What stories can I possibly tell you to illustrate this reality?  But then I thought, the thing is, we need to hear this every year.  Because we are still, STILL looking for that earthly king to lead us.  We still are.  And that is not the king God calls us to have lead us.

So how will we recognize this Christ?  How do we recognize this King?  As we enter Advent, as we come to God with thanksgiving in our hearts for all we have been given, how do we know our loyalty is to the right king?  How do we know we have found Christ again?  

We will know him, as we always do, by his love.  By his unfathomable, unimaginable, kind, caring, unconditional and all-encompassing love.   We will know him by the people he includes, which is everyone, and by the fact that he loves even those who offend us deeply.  We will know him by his unexpected appearance among those we don’t usually count, or see, or care for.  We will know him by his love. Amen

God's Gifts Extending Beyond Imagination

Isaiah 62:1-5

1 Corinthians 12:1-26

John 2:1-11

We limit God's gifts - we limit our understanding of what is a gift from God.  And we limit who we allow to express what gifts.

During the French Revolution, there were three Christians who were sentenced to die by the guillotine. One Christian had the gift of faith, the other had the gift of prophecy, the third had the gift of helping.

The Christian with the gift of faith was to be executed first. He said he was not afraid to die. "I have faith that God will deliver me!" he shouted bravely. He said a short prayer and waited confidently. The rope was pulled, but nothing happened. His executioners were amazed and, believing that this must have been an act of God, they freed the man.

The Christian with the gift of prophecy was next. "I predict that God will deliver me from this guillotine!" At that, the rope was pulled and again, nothing happened. Once, again the puzzled executioners assumed this must be a miracle of God, and they freed the man.

The third Christian, with the gift of helping, was next. The executioners were about to pull the rope when the man stopped them. "Hey wait a minute," he said. "I think I just found the problem with your guillotine."

--

I would like to invite you to think for a moment about what gifts God has given to you.  By gifts I am meaning talents or abilities.  In a moment I'm going to ask you to share what some of your gifts are.  I know this can be uncomfortable because we are also called to be humble.  But as Paul described today, we are as different parts of one body.  And as such, it is important for each of us to know the gifts/talents/purposes/functions that God has given to us.  If we do not know we have a gift for sight, how can we help the body see?  If we do not know we have the gift of hearing, how can we help the body to hear?  Being humble, walking humbly with God, is not about denying God's gifts to you.  Instead it is about recognizing that all talents are gifts from God and that one talent is not more worthy or more honored by God than another.  My gifts are not more valuable than yours, the gifts God has given me do not make me a better or more beloved person than anyone else's.  Each of our gifts are gifts God has given us for the purpose of serving God in the world.  As Paul explains, the feet are not less important than the eyes.  All jobs are needed, all gifts are needed.  That is humility.  When we deny God's gifts to us we are being ungrateful to the God who has gifted us with our talents. With that in mind, I invite you to share for a moment what gifts/talents/abilities God has given to you.  To make this a little easier, I ask you to turn to someone near you and share a gift that you have that your neighbor may not know about. 

What did you hear?  Did people share with you obvious or safe gifts?  Or did you learn something new about the person next to you?  Did anybody say anything surprising?  Now what I'd like you to do is to think for a minute at a different level.  Think about something about yourself that you don't usually think of as a gift- it may be something that you don't like about yourself such as stubbornness, or it may be something you've worked to change about yourself such as sensitivity - getting hurt by others easily.  I want you to think about something about yourself that you don't usually think of as a gift and consider for a moment whether or not that, too, might not be a gift from God.

            While you are doing that, I want to share with you about a person who was one of the members of another church in which I worked.  This is a person who was - well, annoying.  Some might have said he was abrasive.  But whatever you want to call it, he was a difficult person in the church.  He always questioned every idea that came forward, never satisfied with simple answers, never just saying "let's do it!"  He spoke his mind and when he didn't like something, he spoke out, which was often.  When he heard someone say something with which he disagreed, he challenged it right away.  He also came with his own ideas, but these ideas challenged the norm, challenged the status quo at every level.  "Let's try this kind of music."  "Hey, I'm going to start an anti-gang program here at the church.  Anyone want to join me?"  "I think we should go out every Friday evening with a big sign about our church and stand on the street corner at the mall talking to anyone who passes by about what we do here."  He didn't go through the right channels and he was always a pain in everyone's life.  Do you know people like that?  People who are part of your communities who irritate and cause your life to be difficult?

            Eventually "Jason" got called away to a job out of the area and he had to leave the church.  It was only after he had left that we realized the huge hole he had left in his leaving.  He had brought so many gifts to our congregation.  He had challenged us to grow and to expand our thinking.  He had challenged us to be clear in our explanations of the visions and ideas that we had.  He had called us to think through our positions and to be open to differences.  He had challenged us to be open to the movement of the Spirit in a new way, one that didn't go through the long chain of committees, but instead moved into ministry and action without fear and with a great deal of true and deep faith.  I don't know if Jason was aware of his gifts.  I don't know if he recognized that he was in so many ways the head of our body, thinking, dreaming, leading us forward.  I do know that he realized that for many of us he was a pill, he was a challenge.  I know he knew that he wasn't the most popular guy and that people hid when they saw him coming.  I can only hope that he also came to see that the things we all struggled with the most in him were the deepest gifts he had been given by God.  And that his sharing of those gifts brought all of us spiritually, and faithfully deeper and more genuine in our relationships with each other and with God.

            C.S. Lewis in the second book of his space Trilogy, Perelandra, wrote, "Don't imagine I've been selected for ...any task...because I'm anyone in particular.  One never can see, or not till long afterwards, why any one was selected for any calling.  And when one does, it is usually some reason that leaves no room for vanity.  Certainly it is never for what the ...person...themself would have regarded as their chief qualifications."

            We don't see all of the gifts God has given to each of us ourselves.  And we don't see all of the gifts God has given to those around us.  Sometimes we fail so completely to see those gifts that we limit how they can be expressed by others, how much good God can bring out of them, how much we allow others to help us grow in our spiritual journeys. 

            Tomorrow we celebrate the life of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr..  We look at the life of a man who had a big impact in helping to change our image of who African American persons are and what African American men and women can do in this world.  Not that the battle against prejudice is won.  We still deal with prejudice, racism and its affect on us, on our nation and on our world.  But Martin Luther King brought the conversation to a new level, to a more real level, to a more honest level.  While any people are enslaved, physically or metaphorically, while any people are seen as less than others, while any people are limited in their abilities to exercise fully their gifts and talents that God has given them; we, too are limited. 

            As Paul said in today's passage, "If one member of the body suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it."  We are limited in what we allow others to teach us, what we allow them to share with us, what we allow them to give us.  We are limited by what we allow others to teach the world, what we allow them to give the world.  We are all part of the same body.  But we bind our own feet when we say that some people are not allowed to do certain good and godly things in this world.  We blindfold our eyes when we say that certain types of people must be restricted from using the gifts God has given them.  We injure our own body, the body of Christ, when we fail to see that God has gifted us all with talents and abilities beyond what we can see or know or recognize.

            We can see how this has played out throughout history.  People of different backgrounds, ethnicities, cultures and races have all been given gifts, spiritual gifts, gifts to be used to the glory of God.  But when we limited their access to the world, we limited how they could use those gifts, and we were all lessened as a result.  For a long time women have been limited - and in many denominations and in many places they still are - with what they are allowed to do in the church and beyond.  And we continue to limit others for many reasons and in many ways.  As a result, we are injured.  But more than that.  When we limit what gifts God can use in others, when we decide what gifts God can or cannot give to certain people, when we limit what in ourselves we believe to be a talent or gift from God, we are also limiting God God-self.  We are limiting what God can teach us through these people, we are limiting how God can relate to us through different people, we are limiting how God can use us and our gifts, and we are limiting our very relationship with God.  God can do anything, and yet as a people, we insist that God can only do certain things with certain people.  We work hard to put boundaries around God's gifts and God's calling.  And we suffer as a result. 

            In today's gospel reading Jesus changed water into wine.  Today would we find this an acceptable use of the gifts and talents God gave to Jesus?  Would we be offended that Jesus wasn't using his gifts in that moment to heal or confront the system, but was instead only enabling people to party?  If we saw that some people became drunk on this wine, would it offend our sensibilities?  This was Jesus' first miracle recorded in the gospel of John.  Would we shrug it off as a learning time for Jesus?  Or would we be open to hearing that God calls all of us to take time to celebrate as well as to care for others?  Was his ability to turn water into wine something that we would recognize as a gift from God?

            I am not saying that we should ignore the obvious gifts we have and assume they aren't the "real" gifts from God.  As I said at the beginning, an awareness of the gifts God has blessed us with can enable us to serve more effectively and more faithfully our God and God's people.  But I'm also saying that we need to strive to be more open to what God does and can do with the things that we deny as gifts, in ourselves as well as in others.

Wind and Sun wanted to see who could be first to remove a man’s coat.  Wind blew hard, trying to force the coat off.  The cold man only pulled it tighter.  Sun smiled brightly to warm the air.  The hot man took off his coat.  “You see,” said the sun, “there is great strength in gentleness." 

            The wind knew its own gift - but it could not see that the gift of the sun was just as strong, just as meaningful, just as necessary.  What gifts are you not seeing? 

            Amen.

Burn out on Caring in a difficult time, and one response.

         We live in a time when burn out for people who really care is an increasing risk, an increasing likelihood.  If you care about the homeless and the housing crisis in California, if you care about our immigrant brothers and sisters, if you care about people of color, people of faith traditions other than Christianity, if you know any women (and we all do, whether we are aware of it or not), or even men, who’ve been assaulted: if you care about the “least of these” as we are called to do every single day; if it bothers you that we live in a society that manifests increasing apathy towards those who have suffered and even condones violence towards those who are already knocked down then this is a hard time to be active and engaged in our world. If you take seriously the call to love your neighbor as yourself and therefore are able to have compassion for people who are different that you are; if you remember that all of us are God's children, and that by corollary, all of us are siblings to one another; if you are aware therefore that the suffering people are people we are both deeply connected to and called to love like our biological siblings; if you care about the increasing division and growing irreconcilable differences between people in our country, in our communities, and even in our families; if you see meanness and are affected by the lack of simple courtesy and kindness towards strangers, then this is a hard time to keep going with hope and purpose and conviction that we can make the world a better place.

         Of course we hear about things we can do to counter this: focus on gratitude, name five things for which you are thankful each day; make sure that you have room for play in your life; take breaks from the struggles; exercise; laugh; sing.  But there is one other thing that can really help. In the midst of the daily struggles, sometimes the choice to do or be part of service that helps others (or even just one other) at this moment, now, with a real problem they are having  - this choice in itself can bring healing, can bring a tiny and reassuring sense that we can and do make a difference, a glimpse into the possibilities for genuine change and healing that can be brought on by people who care no matter what else is going on in the world.  Find a place to help.  Donate to a food bank, give school supplies, help serve meals, be part of a shelter program, donate to other organizations that make a difference.  Or, join in, give to, and work with organizations that create more permanent long term healing and change for people who are down and out: a new job training program, an education program, tutoring and care for disadvantaged children and youth, be part of a permanent low income housing program.  Yes, advocacy will always be of prime and extreme importance so that deep problems and issues can be confronted before they become monumental traumas and tragedies.  But being involved in a program that is not dependent on the politics of the day, but is simply dependent on our time, energy, resources and dedication and that really touches and changes lives: this can be healing not just for those served, but for our tired and frustrated souls as well.  Truly, we are called, as we are called into any caring work, to do this as much for our own souls, our own minds, our own spirits as we are for others.  I am grateful there are programs and opportunities out there for this kind of service.  They give me the strength and renewal to continue to work for advocacy too.  

All Saints and Stewardship

Ephesians 1:11-23

Luke 6:20-31

Today I have the daunting task of talking to you about both Stewardship and All Saints Day. But while these may not seem connected, stewardship is not just a giving forward, it is also a celebration of what has been, an honoring of the past.

The Ephesians passage tells us that we were chosen in Christ.  We can rest assured that the Saints were chosen in Christ.  We can feel safe in the assurance that our loved ones still exist in some form, that they are with God, that our love for them still matters, and their love for us still continues.  When we are in grief, as many in this congregation are this year, these words can seem a little hollow, perhaps. We miss them.  And while the promise that they still exist in some form helps, while being assured that they are now at rest with God can help, it doesn’t always ease our grief. 

As I thought about the fact that on All Saint’s Day we are called to honor those who went before, I realized that we honor them as much for our sake as for theirs.  Taking the time to celebrate and remember those who have shared with us their time, their wisdom, their presence - helps us to grieve with grace, to celebrate their lives, even as we mourn our own losses, to reflect on the legacies that they’ve left us and that have made us who we are today.    

We honor their memories by sharing with others stories of their lives.  We honor their memories by praying about them, or talking to God about them.  We honor their memories by spending time looking at their pictures, at things they’ve made or things they’ve created, by remembering them.  But there is more.

One of the ways we honor the memories of the Saints is by maintaining practices and rituals that were important to them…such as going to church and giving to church. The saints, the ones who have passed, understood that faith is not just a statement about what we believe.  It is an action, it is about doing, much more than believing.  You show what matters to you by what you do with your time, your energy, your money, your talents, your gifts.  That means that we honor the Saints not only by following in a tradition of generosity, but by giving of our time, our energy, and our talents as well.  There is something that every person here can do.  Every person here can contribute in some way: writing cards, knitting scarves, coming to bible study, inviting your friends to come to an event at church: the concerts, the studies, Sunday worship.  Stewardship then is following through on all of this: it is about committing our lives with our time, energy, talents, and resources - all of which is an expression of faith but also an honoring of our tradition, our history, and the Saints that have gone before us as well.

That doesn’t mean that giving is easy for any of us.  We live in a culture where we are expected to get more and gain more.  We often rank ourselves by the wealth we can demonstrate and we socialize with those in the same socio-economic sphere.  What we perceive to be our need often grows to fit our incomes or to even exceed them.  We can see it happening in our lives and in the lives of those around us, but it is hard to change this, especially in a culture that celebrates wealth. 

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

            "Not very long," answered the Mexican. 

            "But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American. 

            The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?" 

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life." 

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that?" asked the Mexican. 

"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise." 

"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican. 

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American. 

"And after that?" 

"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!" 

"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the Mexican. 

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends." 

How much life do we miss in our quest to become richer?  In our quest to gain more for ourselves and our families?  We know that the most generous people, again with time as well as with money, are often those who start with the least amount of money; and that those who share the least are those with the most money and time to do the sharing.  We also know that studies show there is NO increase in happiness associated with an increase in wealth.  What we think will make our lives fuller and more meaningful doesn’t.  Instead, the one thing that tends to be the best indicator of human happiness is a person’s generosity, with giving, and with caring for and serving others.  That is something that people of previous generations often understood much better than we ourselves can.  And, on death beds, the biggest regret that is always expressed is not spending more time giving meaningful service and time to those people and needs that we care the most about.

            One of my house-mates from college lives as a Catholic worker volunteer.  This means that she lives in a community of other volunteers who open their house to the poor in their community.  They feed them, house them, living in community together.  She is married with children and still lives in this community.  While I struggle to find the money to send my children to lessons so that they might have a full education, her children have the fullest education possible, living with and serving God’s people in community.  She has found God’s wealth to be far greater than that of material wealth and security.   She lives in God’s kingdom and she does it every day.

            I think about Rick Warren, the pastor of the megachurch, Saddleback in Southern CA.  When his books hit the best seller list and he started raking in the money, he had to make some serious decisions about what he would be doing with it.  He wrote, “sometimes learning to deal with the good is harder (than dealing with the challenges in life). For instance, this past year, all of a sudden, when the book sold 15 million copies, it made me instantly very wealthy.   It also brought a lot of notoriety that I had never had to deal with before. I don't think God gives you money or notoriety for your own ego or for you to live a life of ease. So I began to ask God what He wanted me to do with this money, notoriety and influence. He gave me two different passages that helped me decide what to do, II Corinthians 9 and Psalm 72.   First, in spite of all the money coming in, we would not change our lifestyle one bit.. We made no major purchases.  Second, about midway through last year, I stopped taking a salary from the church.   Third, we set up foundations to fund an initiative we call The Peace Plan to plant churches, equip leaders, assist the poor, care for the sick, and educate the next generation.   Fourth, I added up all that the church had paid me in the 24 years since I started the church, and I gave it all back. It was liberating to be able to serve God for free.   We need to ask ourselves: Am I going to live for possessions? Popularity?   Am I going to be driven by pressures? Guilt? Bitterness? Materialism? Or am I going to be driven by God's purposes?   When I get up in the morning, I sit on the side of my bed and say, God, if I don't get anything else done today, I want to know You more and love You better.. God didn't put me on earth just to fulfill a to-do list. (God) is more interested in what I am than what I do.”

Many people come to church for what Church can give them.  Instead, maybe we should pick a church by what church needs us.  It should be a two way street.  No church will be perfect, and that is part of the challenge.  Same is true of the Saints that went before.  None of them are perfect, but we sometimes feel the church should be perfect and until we find one that is, we won’t commit.  We don’t honor our loved ones by making them into people they really weren’t.  We don’t honor who they really were by remembering only the good stuff.  And we don’t honor the tradition of the church by insisting it be perfect, or that it serve us if we are not giving back every bit as much as we hope to get from the church.  It is in giving that we receive. 

I think about the description of heaven and hell that I have shared with you before: in hell, you walk in and see a banquet table filled with foods, but everyone’s elbows are locked.  Each person struggled to feed himself, fighting against the fact that each one cannot bend his or her arms to bring the food into his or her mouth.  In heaven the situation looks very similar: a table filled with food, people surrounding the table with elbows locked.  However in heaven everyone is feeding each other.

            Stewardship, choosing to give of our resources and to give with generosity, is a statement of trust in God, a statement that we know that our real wealth comes from our connections with God and to God’s people.  It is an offering to the church and to one another the foods on the banquet table, trusting that we will be fed in turn.  It is an honoring of all we have loved and all we continue to love as we celebrate the generosity of the Saints by being generous in turn, by sharing with one another our time, our experiences, our wisdom, our energy, and our monetary gifts.

            The words of the hymn we will be singing later, “we give thee but thine own” is one of the truest statements of our faith.  The money, the talents, the gifts and resources we have are not ours.  They are on loan to us from God…but as scripture tells us, “from those who have much, much will be expected.”

            We are blessed.  And today as we remember the Saints who have passed on, we remember that their presence in our lives was a great blessing and their memories continue to be a blessing.  We honor those memories by striving to give as much as they gave us, of all that we have and all that we are.  Amen.