bloomingcactus

Love in the Abyss Romans 5:1-5

Tuesday morning, I sat down with our lectionary study group, eight local pastors I gather with each week to reflect on the next Sunday’s readings.  None of us were excited about Trinity Sunday, or the theological Rubic’s Cube of explaining the three-in-one God.  News was pouring in from Oklahoma City about the terrible tornadoes, and we were all feeling a sense of tragedy overload, Newtown shootings, Boston Bombings, and weekly pastoral tragedies in our congregations.  In the midst of this, we had Paul’s text from Romans 5,

“We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; ⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

I’m not above glorying in my sufferings, but its not the goal.  I come by stoicism naturally growing up in farm country, and I like this passage, because I struggle to with perseverance.  I need help to hope.  A common emotional progression is not always as Paul says, but rather that suffering produces frustration; frustration brings self-pity, and self-pity produces apathy and hopelessness.  I marvel when someone triumphs over suffering; a Gabby Giffords coming back from being shot in the head, an alcoholic who maintains sobriety for 20 years and sponsors others along the path, I even marvel at Anthony Weiner running for Mayor of New York City.  I always wonder why one person crumbles in tragedy and another finds their life purpose.  What is the foundation of hope and resiliency in the midst of tragedy and suffering?  (And a side note, does it have anything to do with the Trinity?)

Tuesday morning, as we were hearing the terrible news of tornadoes in Oklahoma City, NPR’s Morning Edition aired an interview with author Carol Shaben, who wrote a memoir “Into the Abyss”   about a plane crash in artic Canada, which her father was one of the few survivors.

On the night of Oct. 19, 1984, Erik Vogel was uneasy about flying. It was snowing; his plane's de-icer and autopilot weren't working; and his co-pilot had been bumped to fit one more passenger on his 10-seater. But the young pilot was behind schedule and he felt like his job was on the line, so he took off, as he did most days, shuttling between the remote communities that dot the Canadian wilderness.

Author Carol Shaben tells NPR's Steve Inskeep what happened next: "He's hearing these chunks of ice coming off the props and banging like rocks against the fuselage. And he made a calculation error. He thought he was past the high point, but there was another rise of land, 2,500 feet, and he hit that top of that rise."

The plane crashed through a bank of trees, and as the fuselage plowed into the ground, broken bits of plane sheared off the roof like a sardine can. Six people died in the crash, and four men emerged from the wreckage: the pilot; a politician; a prisoner being transferred; and the police officer who was escorting him.  http://www.npr.org/2013/05/21/184177321/after-crashing-in-canadian-abyss-four-men-fight-to-survive

The police officer recalled that night becoming conscious and not realizing the plane had crashed.  He was buried up to his chest in dirt, has no idea what is going on, and suddenly his prisoner, Paul, emerges and starts digging him out, and rescues him.  It is Paul who drags everyone to safety and then searches for anything to burn and start a fire with, no easy job in three feet of snow and subzero weather.  Without this prisoner, feeding the fire the all would have died.  The police officer had been a Canadian Mountie and recovered numerous bodies of people who froze to death in the wild and assumed they would die. 

Shaben, the author weaves together how each of the survivors was transfigured by the crash and rescue.  Her father had a remarkable political career, and was especially moved by another plane crash, this one on 9/11, which moved him to work for greater understanding between cultures.  The pilot, struggled with guilt through the years, and after having his flying career stalled, since no one would hire him, he became a firefighter, and had the opportunity to save many more lives than those lost that day. But the most dramatic change was for Paul Archanbault:

Shaben:. He had a long prison record — who, you know, was an accused criminal, a drifter who had been drifting across the country since he was 15 or 16….. He got on a plane two days later and faced charges, faced a judge in court. And the judge said, 'You are to be commended for your actions and I exonerate you of all charges.' So this ne'er-do-well vagabond who'd had nothing but hard luck was all of a sudden hailed as a hero. So [his life] took a dramatic turn that way. 

http://www.npr.org/books/titles/184176818/into-the-abyss-an-extraordinary-true-story?tab=excerpt#excerpt

In the books prologue Shaben tries to explain what happened to them, turning to popular mythology writer Joseph Campbell, who wrote a book about heroic journeys, and the transformative power of a crisis that shakes our complacency through crisis.  We confront the precious and limited nature of existence and come out with a deeper understanding on the other side of suffering.  I think that is partly correct, however, not everyone is transformed by crisis.  If so, Hurricane Sandy and the Oklahoma tornadoes would be creating great religious revivals and an outpouring of meaning and purpose.  Crisis does bring people together for a time, there is an outpouring of compassion for the survivors, gratitude to still be alive, but the norm is most people gradually return to everyday life, and few even curse God or reject any goodness to life.

I think the real story of the plane crash is not just how each individual took their own hero’s journey to transformation, it is how their bond and their ongoing friendship gave them the strength and courage to go on and find new meaning.  It is a story of community, and of the transforming power of love and friendship.  Perhaps they would have still lived changed lives as sole survivors, by that would be rare indeed. Most people have the strength to hope and change because of love.  This is why twelve step recovery programs work so well, not because of the magic or brilliance of the steps alone, but because of the accompanying community.  Many people find hope in their terrible pain and suffering through Mother’s Against Drunk Driving, or working to transform gun violence. 

This is why we gather in church each week, and why we sing and pray and reflect on scriptures together.  We are not transformed by wisdom alone, or knowledge alone or the calming power of meditation and music.  It is love that is at the heart of things, and you can’t love by yourself. 

When people say they don’t believe in organized religion, or that they are spiritual by not religious, I ask them if they believe in community.  It is certainly hard to have community without organization, and hard to make community without passing through some disagreements and annoyances.  What I really want to say is “Where will you go when walking alone in your spiritual journey is not enough?”

Now I know you are wondering when I will get back to the Holy Trinity.  Thanks for asking.  The doctrine we call Trinity matters because it tells us that even God does not dwell alone.  The mystery at the heart of our one God, is that there is a communal in-dwelling together of three personas; Creator, Christ and Holy Spirit.  Love cannot live alone and it is always seeking more life to love.  This must be why God seeks us.  This is why we can hope.  As Paul says in the conclusion of our Romans reading:

⁵ And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

 

 

 

"How Can I Keep From Singing? Acts 16:16-34

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gqxHnlawPI

My inner response to this scripture is best described by the word “disruptive.”  It’s troublesome, unruly, unsettling, disturbing.  We move from fortune telling slave girls, to demons being caste out, dark prisons of Philippi, Paul and Silas incongruently singing in chains, earthquakes, it all makes me feel like I’m watching an episode of Xena Warrior Princess or some other ancient fantasy.  I think Acts of the Apostles may be patterned on Homer’s Odyssey, the epic journey tale of a soldier coming home from battle.  This is the early Christian version of the epic spread of the word about Jesus.

The passage starts with disrupting injustice.  What happens to this woman, who only gets mentioned as a “slave girl?”  I hate it when a character enters the story for a few sentences, her already difficult life is turned upside down, and the scene moves on without knowing what happened to her, let alone her name.  She is literary collateral damage.

Just when scriptures are giving women a fair shake in the story, by extolling a woman named Lydia, who is the first documented Christian convert on the European continent.  Lydia was a merchant dealing in purple cloth, a wealthy women who hospitality, influence and generous spirit created a home base for Paul and Silas in Greece.  She stands on her own in the story, without drawing her status from a husband.  Then we have this contrasting story of the fortune telling slave girl, who seems to be an annoyance to Paul.  Paul castes a demon out of her, which may have given her some temporary relief, but her value is diminished to her masters.  We are left to imagine what becomes of her.

Our imaginations can be quite fertile this week, as we have been bombarded by the story of a Cleveland man holding women in captivity for years, in a quiet suburban neighborhood.  NPR interviewed neighbors and they were all astonished that such a thing could happen right there, by a man they all knew.  This wasn’t a far off land, but right by their home and their world view was shaken.

The slave’s disappearance from the story disturbs me because of watching so many people briefly emerge from homeless or addiction at Hillcrest House in Poughkeepsie and then disappear from the scene, so many that I cannot remember their names.  They came from jail, rehabs, psychiatric hospitalization, fleeing domestic violence, their stories a cascade of overlapping oppressions.  Just as we would caste out one demon, another would possess them and carry them back into the hopeless chaos.

I don’t like stories where people disappear from the plot without resolution.  This sentiment was captured by a photographer in Bangledesh, whose photo was in Time Magazine this week.  The photo is of a couple found in their final embrace in the rubble of a garment factory collapse.  A thousand people are dead, not from an earthquake of natural disaster, but of greed and oppression.  He said,

Every time I look back to this photo, I feel uncomfortable — it haunts me. It’s as if they are saying to me, we are not a number — not only cheap labor and cheap lives. We are human beings like you. Our life is precious like yours, and our dreams are precious too.

Read more: http://lightbox.time.com/2013/05/08/a-final-embrace-the-most-haunting-photograph-from-bangladesh/#ixzz2T4W21DkQ

I can’t really judge Paul for his actions, I’m sure he was trying to help, but he too is quickly swept up in the tide, imprisoned for disturbing the peace and tranquility of the community, beaten and put in stocks.  Be careful out there do-gooders.  Changing the world and making a difference is not always a feel good experience, it often breaks your heart and sometimes gets you in trouble.

Paul and Silas were arrested and beaten with rods, perhaps another typical case of Philippian police brutality?  Since Paul and Silas were foreigners, is this also a case of racial profiling?  Greeks called everyone other than themselves “barbarians.”  They are held without trial, perhaps to be deported, or just to sit in the darkness without official charges, access to legal counsel, never read their Miranda rights.  What kind of barbaric legal system tolerates this kind of injustice?

But the story does not end here.  There is yet another disruptive force in the story.  Somewhere deep under the prison walls, the tectonic plates under the Macedonian prison shift.  Somewhere deep in the heart of God there is a shift to another plan.  God is never mentioned as the source, but in most times before our own, earthquakes, lightening, any great natural phenomenon was considered to be a tool of God.  Acts tells us that the foundations of the prison were shaken, the door immediately burst open and everyone’s chains fell off.

Freeing the captive is a great motif throughout scripture, from Moses  parting of the Red Sea in Exodus, to Jesus announcing the Jubilee in Luke with a promise of freedom for the captive, all the way to our times and The Letter from a Birmingham Jail by Martin Luther King.

For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.  ~Nelson Mandela

This was a “faith-quake”, and it calls us to a great truth, that in the midst of trial and trembling, God has not forgotten us and is not removed from our suffering.  It calls us to remember the words of Psalm 46, “Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;”  “Faith-quakes” call us to anticipate and hope for the power of God’s love to shake the foundations of our human created prisons and oppressions, and break the chains that bind us.  God’s quake bends the iron bars we have so cruelly installed to lock out possibilities and potentials.  Where fear has shut and locked the door to close out our hopes and dreams, God bursts the lock and says “Be not afraid.”

To add to the ironic conclusion here, the captives do not flee into the night.  The jailer had slept through all the quaking, comes to see the doors open and is ready to kill himself for his failure, when Paul stops him and says, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.”  And the jailer immediately says, “What must I do to be saved?”  Paul and Silas suddenly have quite a group of converts, a jailer, his family, probably a few other prisoners, who were in for God knows what.  I wonder what Lydia the purple cloth merchant thought as Paul brought her new brothers and sisters in Christ to her house church?  Paul now has more of what he truly wants, not just freedom for himself from jail, but to free anyone and everyone from their captivity through encountering the life giving power of God, and bringing them together as a new community called church.

Its very humbling to me as a pastor to hear this story.  What am I to learn and imitate here?  I haven’t caste out any demons lately. Maybe my church growth strategy should be to get arrested for civil disobedience.  The one thing we all can do is to never lose heart and keep on singing.  I always wonder what hymns Paul and Silas were singing in prison.  Was it the Magnificat?  Or did they know a tune to Psalm 23?  Was there an early version of “We Shall Overcome?” Singing in prison is a grand tradition in the faith.  I unearthed this interview of William Sloan Coffin speaking with Bill Moyers in 2004, about being in jail and signing, and I will share it with as our conclusion.

MOYERS: It's been 30-plus years since you were arrested and jailed for trespassing in the US Capitol, when you were protesting the Vietnam War.

Your fellow demonstrators remember that during the night, when they were uneasy, even depressed, they suddenly heard someone singing. And it was you. Do you remember that?

COFFIN: Yeah. It was a group of clergy and laity concerned with Vietnam. And so, they were all pretty religious folk. So, I started to sing "The Messiah," as I remember. And quite a few people joined in. It was a good night.

MOYERS: What is it that enables a man to sing in prison?

COFFIN: Well. In my case music, after God, has been my chief source of solace. Song is an expression of hope. And hope is something that is experienced with a kind of psychological certitude, rather than intellectual certainty.

It's trusting that things all will be well when the day is done. Or, as Havel said wonderfully, "Hope is not waiting for something good to turn up well. But being grateful that something really makes sense." That's enough to make you burst into song.

http://www.pbs.org/now/transcript/transcript310_full.html

Is it enough for you to burst into song?

Exodus 34:29-35, Luke 9:28-36 Transfiguration Sunday "Face Time with God"

Its a snowy day here in Northampton and I am posting my sermon for tomorrow.  All the pictures in this article are from the blog Marina Abramovic Made Me Cry.  Leave me a comment if you found a way to work this into your sermon.  I will be posting quite a bit during Lent.  You can follow on Facebook or Twitter by joining on the right hand side bar.

 

First Churches is fully launching into the internet and social media revolution this week, and I feel both excitement and anxiety about this.  As a pastor, should I be more wired, armed now with Twitter and Facebook?  Or should I be, like Moses and Jesus, climbing a mountain and seeking the face of God away from the busy crowds?

 I am struck by parallels between the Protestant Reformation and our era, where societies are going through enormous change at multiple levels at once.  Luther was not only an early adopter of the new technology of the printing press, but he also translated the Bible from Latin into German and wrote hymns, catechisms and music.  The Printing Press allowed him to almost single-handedly outmaneuver the vast power of the Vatican and build an alternative church.  Of course, he also set off an unintended peasant revolt, and one of his lesser known publications was entitled “Against the Thieving Murderous Hordes of Peasants.”   Arab Spring was not the only revolution that traveled through a new communications technology!

 New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman is one of the great cheerleaders for the power of social media.  Last Sunday he wrote about the impact global distance learning.  MIT and Harvard have created a nonprofit called “Xed” which taught its first course this year, MIT’s Introduction to Circuits, to 155,000 students around the world.  The founders note that this is larger than the total number of MIT graduates in its entire history.  This creates access to higher education in Mongolia and rural Egyptian villages that could be transformative. 

My first question is what about the impact of the personal experience of a classroom and getting to know teachers as mentors?  What will we lose in this process?  One thing I don’t like about the internet is how people hide behind anonymity, engaging in viscious attacks they wouldn’t have the courage to do in real life.  Will we use the personal touch and the social skills of human interaction?  We were at dinner one evening and saw an entire table of six people all looking at their cell phones at the same time.  Why go out to dinner together?

 On the other hand there is an empowering dimension to internet interactions.  A Princeton sociology professor taught his first internet course last summer, an introduction to C. Wright Mills 1959 classic, “The Sociological Imagination.”  He had 40,000 students in 113 countries.  Normally he would get a penetrating question or comment here and there in the lecture hall, but within a day there were hundreds of questions posted online in the forums.  Over three weeks he had more feedback and discussion in this class than he had over his entire teaching career. 

 Friedman had a follow up article this week which noted the impact of smart phones and internet access which are now available to people who are only slightly above substance poverty.   One theory of how democracy and human rights takes root in a society is that when a substantial middle class, people making around $10,000 a year or more in the third world, starts to develop, they demand a voice and want accountability from their government.  What the internet does is push that demand further down the income level, so that a society hits critical demand for change more quickly. 

 In December, a 23-year-old Indian woman — whose father worked double shifts as an airport baggage handler, making about $200 a month so his daughter could go to school to become a physiotherapist — was gang-raped on a bus after she and a male friend had gone to a movie. She later died from injuries sustained in the rape. 

She was a high-aspiring member of this new virtual Indian middle class, and her brutal rape and subsequent death triggered nationwide protests for better governance. “It is one of those turning points in history when a citizenry, so far pleased with economic gain, wants more than material comfort,” said Chanda. “They want recognition of their rights; they want quality of life and, most importantly, the good governance they have come to expect by watching the world.” 

 On the one hand, it is inspiring to me the way that new technology can connect us to new ideas and new ways of seeing the world.  Luther would have possibly been just another persecuted priest without the printing press.  Perhaps Moses would have been unknown without the spread of writing on tablets to preserve and share knowledge.  Technology allows us to have contact with each other over time and space.  However, we must first have something worth communicating.  Information does not transform us by itself. 

 My first interview with the church was over Skype, and it was interesting to try to work the room over the flat screen.  It was an improvement over the telephone interviews I had in the past, being able to see reactions, body language and sense the live audience, but you can’t really make eye contact.  Forbes magazine interviewed over 700 executives and found that 80 percent of them preferred face-to-face meetings over virtual meetings.  They felt they could be more persuasive, more free in brainstorming and make better decisions in person.  Real contact matters.

  Performance artist Marina Abramovic illustrated the power of presence in her performance of “The Artist is Present” at the Museum of Modern Art (Moma).  To this end she sat motionless and silent on a wooden chair inside a circle of light in the huge atrium of Moma, seven hours a day, from mid-March until the end of May. Anyone who was prepared to queue could sit opposite her just as long as they agreed to remain silent and motionless and to stare back into her eyes.  Her goal was to channel a “luminous state of being and transmit it.”

 The results were surprising even to her. Every day several people broke down in tears, usually after just a few minutes of silent staring. On personal blogs and MySpace, people shared their experiences of sitting with Marina, often in quasi-religious or life-altering language. "I gazed into the eyes of many people who were carrying such pain inside that I could immediately see it and feel it," she says, still sounding excited. "I become a mirror for them of their own emotions. One big Hell's Angel with tattoos everywhere stared at me fiercely, but after 10 minutes was collapsing into tears and weeping like a baby."  She said there were moments when the museum became Lourdes, a place of healing.  

Ironically, I never would have encountered this performance art without the internet.  I found a Facebook page where the pictures of people crying with Marina Abromovic were posted, and seeing the faces moved me to tears.  But it is the luminous being of the artist that matters.  I so wish I could sit in her presence and feel and sense the present moment with her.  If I am moved by the still warm coals of her idea, what is the full burning fire like?

 The story of Moses and his illumined face, and the Transfiguration of Jesus, do the same thing for me.  Sometimes reading the Bible is like having a small glowing ember left over from a big fire in my hand.  If I blow on it and add some kindling, perhaps it can spark and grow to a flame again.  Perhaps I can sense some of the original encounter with God in the story. 

I want to learn from those who have had face time with God, those who still have the afterglow of being in the Light.  Moses spoke with God on the mountain, he had a connection, a moment in the presence of divinity, the source of life and mystery of being.  The voice from the burning bush came back to him and spoke again.  When Moses came back down and his face was luminous. It was not merely having tablets with important ethical ideals that made Moses important.  Skeptics might point out that his commands were remarkably similar to Hammurabi’s Code, and perhaps one of them had some influence on the other.  Some might even think Moses made it all up   It was being a voice for the deeper undergirding meaning and power of the living God that mattered. 

 

How do we get face time with God?  How do we encounter the luminous state of being that Maria Abramovic was trying to share without words in her performance art?  Transfiguration reminds us that we have to go up the mountain, get away from the ordinary and the hustle of daily life.  That is what I encourage you all to do during Lent.  Fast from carbon and go out and see the earth that is worth protecting.  We must withdraw for a time and get outside ourselves.  That is what creation does for us.  That is why people climb mountains.  Because they are there!  Some may climb mountains to accomplish something, but spiritual seekers climb to be conquered.  We find that we are small and the universe is vast.  We can see for miles, and while we ponder the great view, there may be an unexpected tap on the shoulder and we find that God is beside us.  Then we see life as it is- luminous, radiant, glorious! 

 

Luke 3:15-22 "Called and Loved"

What was Jesus doing in the first 30 years of life, until the day that he stood before Cousin John to be baptized?  We know more about Jesus from conception, through birth canal to being delivered in a manger than we know about his entire adult formation the following 30 years.  The art of the memoir did not exist yet.  Augustine’s Confessions, written four centuries later, was the first modern self-reflective book .  The talk show format was two millennia in the future, with its chatty questions, “How do you like being the messiah?  What is it you hate the most about it?  Is it like being a super hero or one of the X-Men?  What does God really think about the Kardashians?”  There is no inside scoop on ancient people, just what they did or what they said, and we can only speculate (and we do so, because that is what modern self-conscious people do.)

 

Some scholars think Jesus went East and dabbled in Zoroastrianism, others think he went West and learned the Greek wisdom of Stoics and Epicureans, or perhaps he was an Essene monk isolated in a desert commune.  Somewhere along the way he learned to be a carpenter and picked up a little about fishing.  We will probably never know, but I will tell you what I think.  Wherever Jesus was, I think he was deciding, choosing his path, trying to figure out who he was.  When did he know his destiny, did he ever hear the voice of God before this day of Baptism, when the words came, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”   

 

It was John who was the first to blossom, and get launched in a public ministry.  John was the confident one, the clear one, the just a little crazy one with a zealous streak.  Was Jesus the cousin full of angst and doubt, who took longer to find himself?   Come on, he’s 30 when he emerges from nowhere, and the average lifespan in his day wasn’t much more.  At what point does Mary stop pondering things in her heart and tell him about the Angel Gabriel, the star over his manger, and perhaps show him the gold and frankincense to prove the story?  Would his bar mitzvah have been the right occasion?  Or did he just know it inside, intuitively sensing he had a special divine connection?  Perhaps it just took a while to sort all this out, to find himself as messiah. Should he be a scholar, a warlord, what exactly does a messiah do to become such a thing?  Maybe he was dreaming the whole thing up, it was a crazy estrogen dream his mother had about angels speaking in the night. 

 

It is a great mystery as to what just was thinking, his self-reflection, his self-consciousness, about who he was.  I can only say that it appears to me that there was much wrestling, some very human anxiety about what to do and be.  Throughout Jesus’s life there are these moments of choice, doubt and wrestling – after baptism, he then goes off into the wilderness for 40 days to be tempted, he waits months to tell his disciples that he is the messiah, and then must quarrel with Peter, this choice to his mission eats at him all the way to the Garden of Gethsemane “Let this cup pass from me, yet not my will but yours.”  Even on the cross, the shout is “My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me.”  Jesus struggles and chooses his path all through his life.

 

Theologians think of the incarnation as  happening in Mary’s womb, as if it was a one-time event enacted by God to bring Jesus into the flesh.  But I tend to think of incarnation as not a singular event, but a long series of these moments and choices to live out the calling Jesus had.  Incarnation is an ongoing process of choosing to be fully engaged in human life.  It is accepting the limits and blessings of being human, to not shrink in the face of suffering, to choose love, to be in community    Baptism is the first time he makes his choice public. Jesus chooses a divine calling to be fully human, and the suffering that goes with serving the common good.  Many months of wrestling finally lead to this moment where he joins the crowd around Cousin John, and he is called out of the crowd, and humbly asks that he be baptized.  Jesus does not walk on the water, but wades out into it, to be submerged by human hands and re-emerge with divine calling. He will walk the path of the incarnation that has already begun in him, and will focus his life to complete this work. 

 

We have made Jesus so not like us so we may worship him, but I follow him because he is so human.  When I young I was fascinated by superheroes and their unique and amazing powers.  That is an expression of the human desire to transcend the limits of our mortal, sometimes silly, and often vulnerable selves.  But as I become older my great admiration is for  people who have the courage and commitment to doing something worthwhile, especially if the outcome is tenuous, the risks and dangers are many, and they must face human limits and vulnerability to succeed.  The feeding the 5000, multiplying loaves and fishes, walking on water, healing the blind, do not stir my soul as much as the hug given to a leper, the protection of a woman about to be stoned, the prophetic courage to drive the money changers from the temple, the bravery in face of opposition who wanted him dead and who would ultimately succeed in a brutal, painful way.  It is the risking of self to protect human dignity that touches me so much more than any superhuman powers.  I cannot do supernatural miracles, but with Jesus as my example and inner strength, I might just be able to do an act of courage.  It is ironic that it is his deeply human actions, where he is vulnerable to criticism or physical harm, that make him seem so divine.  Perhaps it is our human lack of courage that so wants Jesus to be the divine miracle worker, so we don’t have to face our own baptism and incarnation as human beings.  We would rather leave it all to the super-heroes. 

 

It makes sense that baptism has become the ritual of entry into the church community.  It is the welcoming ritual for infants and it next week when new members join the church; it is by the affirmation of their baptisms.  If you were baptized as an infant, you share this in common with Jesus.  There was a hope and promise that your life would follow the path of faith, and you would find the love of God in the community of the church.  You had no control over it and no choice in the matter, but while you were completely helpless and unaware God loved you and divine grace and the Holy Spirit was within you.  As adults, we chose to affirm our baptisms, or if we are Baptists, to be immersed, just as Jesus was.  What God has done within us is now becoming incarnated and claimed. We chose the way, the truth, and the life. 

 

When we welcome people into the life of the church, we ask some extraordinary questions of them.  We don’t just ask people if they believe in Jesus and the Holy Trinity, or that they will be good church folk, serve on committees, pledge and always agree with the pastor.  (You are UCC and Baptist probably because you don’t always want to agree with a pastor, right?!)  But we do ask from the UCC Book of Worship:

 

Do you promise, according to the grace given to you, to be Christ’s disciple, to follow in the way of our Savior, to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice, and to witness to the work and word of Jesus Christ as best you are able?

 

I have read those words dozens of new members, confirmands, even parents bringing their children for baptism over the years, and I am always a bit taken aback to hear them reply, “I promise with the help of God.”  Baptism sounds to me like joining a movement.  Calling isn’t just something for pastors.  You all should have “Reverend” in front of your name if you are baptized.  My calling is lived through preaching and teaching the faith, and yours may be lived through working in health care, social work or engineering, as a parent, grandparent or activist; and through standing up for human dignity and adding your kindness and creativity to the world. 

 

Why would we do this?  Why get baptized and follow Jesus, and all the challenges that go with it?  Jesus found out as soon as he came out of the waters.  Still dripping wet, shivering from the chill, Jesus hears the divine voice, “You are my beloved Son, and with you I am well pleased.”  Even messiahs need love.  We don’t know if Jesus had ever heard the voice of God before this moment.  We don’t know if he felt loved or not.  And it is interesting that these words come in the moments after commitment, not before.  Jesus didn’t hear he was loved, so then he committed, which is probably the way most of us work.  And theologically speaking, grace and love come to us before we are aware of it.  But there seems to be a fullness and completeness of God’s love that comes in being in community.  We cannot do this alone.  We need a community to walk with this way, to know this God.  God’s love may come in quiet solitude, but it blossoms in the community of the baptized.  We find the fullness of divine love as we give it and live it. 

 

It took Jesus 30 years to come to the waters’ edge, so do not despair if you struggle in your faith journey.  Jesus knows the choice you make and the walk you take, and your baptism is a reminder that he will give you the strength to see it through.

 

Luke 1:39-56 "Luke's Pageant"

I think Luke’s Gospel should be considered the first Christmas pageant.  Luke’s first two chapters are governed by four great canticles, known by their Latin names:

Starting with Mary’s Magnificat, followed by Zechariah’s Benedictus, where he celebrates the birth of his son John the Baptist.  Angels then sing Gloria in Excelsis to announce the birth of Jesus, and finally Simeon, a devout man promised by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he saw the messiah, sings Nunc Dimitis at the dedication of the baby Jesus in the Temple. Of the four the Magnicat has captured the imagination of composers from Mozart, Monteverdi, Mendelson,  to Vivaldi, Frescabaldi, Schubert, Ralph Von Williams and Jon Rutter, and the most famous version by Johann Sebastion Bach.

 

It seems very clear that Luke felt the best way to introduce the story of Jesus was through a burst of songs that tell the significance of his birth to the world – a Christ-Mass Pageant.  Someday I want to read the first two chapters of Luke and sing the four canticles to hear the joy and hope he is trying to express.  Here is what I think we would notice.  These canticles are a creative remix of Psalms that tell the salvation history of Israel, in other words, an “oldie but a goody” remade with a contemporary beat.  The Magnificat is a remix of The Song of Hannah, which was written over a thousand years before in the Old Testament book of First Samuel.  Hannah also sang to give thanks for her pregnancy, and her son was Samuel, the first great prophet of Israel, who was known to be prophet of the lowly and marginalized in society.  It was Samuel who challenged King David about his conduct of sending Uriah to his death to have Bathsheba to himself.

 

Luke is therefore telling the Gentile/Greek reader that Jesus did not come from nowhere to found a new religion. Rather his birth and vocation is the terminus of a long line of faithful actors carrying out God’s hopes and destiny for humanity.  Jesus is linked to a peoples’ journey out of slavery in Egypt, the forming of a new nation called to live by a covenant of justice with their God.   They rise and then fall short, only to reform and be redeemed again, coming out of exile in Babylon to rebuild again, and now live once again under the sword of Rome and longing for divine deliverance.  Only great and passionate song can launch a message of such import.  These four canticles embody the story not only of Israel, but of humanity trying to find peace with itself, a cure for our warring madness; longing for a healing, saving, just God who will not leave us to our own devices, even when we may deserve it.

 

This is clear in the Magnificat: 

God’s mercy is from generation unto generations…

He has shown strength with his arm;
   he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
   and lifted up the lowly; 
he has filled the hungry with good things,
   and sent the rich away empty. 
He has helped his servant Israel,
   in remembrance of his mercy, 
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
   to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’

 

The verb tense here is not a future tense, this is not merely a prophecy of what Jesus will do when he grows up.  This is the “present perfect” verb tense – “God has scattered, has lifted up, has helped” these are things God has already done several times in the past and is continuing to do now through the hope growing in Mary’s womb.  Mary’s joyous song celebrates God’s past and continuing action in the world, as now she is becoming a part of the story.

 

This is a radical statement for us today, when we can barely think past the last news cycle.  We can be such a cynical, bored, “been there, done that” kind of society.  How do we hear a proclamation that says to us, “God is faithful from generation to generation?”  To the modern ear it may sound naïve, arrogant or anachronistic to speak this way.  But I believe it is the modern sensibilities that are in error, for we are but a moment on the earth, but the Great Story of faith has been told for a long time.

 

In the midst of life, it may seem that we are constantly stymied, that injustice is static and the change we desire is a distant dream.  But my short sojourn on this earth says otherwise.  Great reversals are the norm of my nearly half century of life.  I was born in 1964, the next year The Civil Rights Act was signed into law.  I watched Neil Armstrong take that first great step out of Apollo 11 and walk on the moon.  I have lived during the time of Roe v. Wade, the Fall of the Iron Curtain, the Berlin Wall and Apartheid in South Africa.  When I performed a Holy Union Ceremony in a church sanctuary 12 years ago, people were fearful that I might be asked to resign.  Now that is the law of this Commonwealth and headed to the Supreme Court.  I have watched Bill Clinton go from the man from hope, to impeachment and disgrace, to a beloved vegan, elder statesman.  Nixon would now be seen by many as an ultraliberal.  So by the time I retire, Elizabeth Warren might be seen as the last of the conservative old guard in the Senate. 

 

Life has a way of turning today’s certainties into yesterday’s silly ideas, and today’s dreamers tomorrow’s heroes.  And what of our own lives?  There is a pageant that contains our story, a great song that expresses our hopes.  For we have a part to play, young and old, we are shepherds tending our flocks, angels speaking words of hope to one another, wise travelers, gift bearers, Mary and Joseph, trying to raise our children well. This is your story, and I hope that this coming year you will all become pregnant!  I stand ready to baptize all the new signs of life coming from you.  Pregnancy doesn’t always have to start in the womb, for we can all have pregnant hearts ready to give birth to love, pregnant minds full of the birth pangs of hope, pregnant souls longing to give birth to Christ within.  Pageant rehearsal for 2013 starts immediately in the new year.  There are plenty of parts for all of you.  As long as you are willing to play your part, the great story continues, and God keeps turning the world right-side up again.  For Christ was born of Mary, and longs to be born in you.  

Luke 3:7-28 "John, the Thundering Pragmatist?"

How many times have you gone to church thinking, “I would really like to hear a sermon that begins with the words ‘You brood of vipers...?”  When you first read John the Baptist and his preaching about vipers, the axe is ready at the root of the tree, and all who do not bear fruit will be chopped down and thrown in the fire to be burned, our minds are ready to put this into a category of “hellfire and brimstone” preaching.  You are probably already thinking, “That is not our kind of religion, Pastor.”  We have moved on from “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”  We believe in a loving, forgiving, inclusive God.  The last two verses probably magnify our confusion:

 

¹⁷His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” ¹⁸So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.

 

That is the good news?  Pitchforks and fire, that is the good news?  It does not feel like good news.

 

Why should we bother with John the Baptist at all, here on this Sunday when we have lit the candle of love?  The only answer I can give is that Jesus dealt with John.  John was his cousin, perhaps his mentor, the one who was to prepare the way for him.  Jesus went out into the wilderness with John and was baptized by him, something that caused the Gospel writers and theologians a great deal of difficulty.  How could Jesus, the sinless one, go for the baptism of repentance?  This is why all the Gospels are clear to say that John was not the messiah, and John says he is not the one, he shouldn’t even be touching the of the messiah’s sandals.  (Still followers of John the Baptist out there!)

 

There must be something else going on here in this text than a simplistic “save your souls from Hell” and “accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior” kind of sermon.  For all this fiery preaching, John sounds like a thundering pragmatist when giving advice.  Once he has the attention of his audience and they are doing some real soul searching, they ask “What shall we do?” 

 

“Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”

 

OK, that isn’t too bad.  I was expecting that I was going to need to fast in the wilderness for 40 days, or sit down and make a fearless moral inventory and write down every sin I ever committed and make a public confession that I will change and sin no more.  Sharing of my extra with those in need doesn’t sound so bad in comparison-except for the moochers and takers out there, of course.

 

The text then says tax collectors and soldiers are coming out to hear John.  Now it is getting interesting.  John is getting to the conscience of those who participate in the prevailing unjust order, When those who grab the money and wield the guns pay attention, you are making an impact.  And these folks couldn’t just watch John preach on You Tube.  They had to make a days’ journey out to the wilderness.  What did John ask of these notorious seekers?

 

To the tax collector, John says, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.”  To the soldier, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” 

 

It sounds to me like John is just calling everyone to be decent human beings.  Share with those in need and don’t be corrupt in your work.  Be caring and don’t make your living off of exploiting people. Really that should be the low bar for what it means to be a spiritual person.  When Jesus starts preaching he says to the rich young ruler, “Go sell all you have and give it to the poor and follow me.”  I’m sure the man would have preferred to run the coat and food drive as John suggested. 

 

For all the thundering about axes chopping, fires burning and vipers brooding; John’s simple message is to bear fruit.  Paul says the same thing in Galations 5, when demonstrating what it means to be a follower of Jesus he says,

 

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

 

In the Sermon on the Mount, this is what Jesus has to say about recognizing false prophets:

You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit.

 

“Don’t just be hearers of the word,” says the Epistle of James, “but be doers of the word, for faith without works is dead.”  Bear fruit. 

 

How will these words begin to take root and blossom in our own souls, so that we may feel like the tree of our soul is producing rich, full, sweet fruit in season?  There are times when I feel it difficult to know the right thing to do, when I miss the mark, or wonder if I bear any fruit at all.  The most dangerous hour for me is 3 AM.  Somehow my conscience is wide open at that time.  That is when I question if I am a good parent and agonize over my missteps.  At 3 AM I realize I misspoke to someone and wonder how I can ever make it right.  No matter how much good I may do, that is the hour when even one small critical comment can hold sway in my thoughts.  It is the hour I feel most powerless, wondering how I can begin to respond faithfully to episodes like the mass slaughter of innocent children just going to school in Newtown, Connecticut.  Do I re-write my whole sermon, organize a candle light vigil, or dedicate effort to a grass roots campaign for gun control?  Will any of it matter?  If I awake and use the bathroom at 3 AM, I try to stay close to slumber and fall asleep quickly, because once I give the slightest ground to these thoughts, I am lost.  It is hard to truly be a decent person.  John understood, and simply asked that we seek to bear fruit, help those in need and do no harm.

 

Over time I have found it impossible to be a person of conscience on my own.  To live morally by ourselves is a path of much sadness and sorrow.  Isn’t that why we are here this morning?  To live a decent life we need a set of practices to live by and a community that shapes you and supports the health of your soul.  What we do here at 10 AM on Sunday morning is vital to how we deal with 3 AM the rest of the week, and how you deal with your life.

 

This is how we face our brokenness, our powerless frustration, our guilt and our pain.  We light our Advent candles in the face of the world’s darkness.  We sing precious melodies and let the organ tune our souls.  We listen to the ancient words of scripture to find wisdom from the communion of saints who have gone before us. We say our prayers – to confess, to be express gratitude, to express our hope for change and healing.  We bring our offerings to preserve our sacred space and support ministry and mission around the world.  Here we have gifts for a few needy families, we have school supplies for children in Haiti, and we hope those who receive them will know they are not alone and forgotten in the world, and they will find reason to hope.  Everything we do here in this hour or so, is a practice session for how to live fully alive, bearing good fruit for the rest of the week.  

 

Look at it this way.  When a pianist begins a concert, they have done hundreds of hours of scales, extra work on the tricky runs and chords, and practiced until the melody is so a part of them, so that the crowd just off stage no longer matters.  The fruit of their practice is that the music now lives in them and they can share it to bring joy to the world.  A lawyer spends many hours reading cases, learning logic, writing briefs, staying prepared for the moment when someone needs their expertise to find justice in their lives.  The golfer hit the winning put a thousand times in practice before winning in Augusta. 

 

So too when we face the challenges of conscience, we have the wisdom we need because the scriptures are firmly planted in our souls.  When tempted with despair and cynicism, we prevail because we have sung a thousand hymns.  When evil gathers round us, we know we are a part of communion of saints around the world who will act with us for justice and peace.  We death draws near, we have already walked in the valley of shadow and we will not fear. 

 

Our practice is to set aside this hour together, to tend the tree of life that grows within, so it will bear the fruit of God’s spirit.  Together we are God’s orchard, and can feed not only our own spiritual hungers, but also offer rich fruit to a needy world.  Whether you feel you are a sapling or a sprawling fig, your fruit will matter.  Slowly and patiently we will stay prepared and the fruit we bear will be enough for the world.