Family Life

Happy 5th day of Christmas! Below is a copy of my sermon from Sunday, December 26th, Holy Family Sunday. Thanks for the requests to read it...

I know that the birth of a baby causes chaos in the life of everyone around the new family. This is particularly true of the parents, of course, who find that their sleep schedules…meal schedules…personal hygiene schedules are all now subject to the whims of an infant. I was reminded of that when I was reading a Facebook post from my sister—who gave birth to my nephew Benjamin a month ago Thursday. Janelle was recounting the wonderful successes of the people in the family: great test scores for one niece, a part in a musical for another niece, and a nice bit of home care done by my brother-in-law. My sister’s listed accomplishment for the same time period? “I make milk!” There is no question that this is an important accomplishment in the life of the family, but not something that people usually celebrate.

In Luke’s Gospel that we read on Christmas Eve, the story is that Mary and Joseph left Nazareth and traveled to Bethlehem, where Jesus was born, a star appeared, angels sang, and shepherds came; it is a lovely story of celebration and reflection. But there is nothing sentimental in Matthew’s “Christmas Story;” There is no travel prior to Jesus’ birth in the city of Bethlehem. Instead, Jesus’ birth is set in a turbulent time; tyrants see conspiracy at every turn and violently respond and families flee in the middle of the night. There are no angels that sing “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth, goodwill.”

Whatever the realities of their traveling and living situation, I can imagine that Mary and Joseph may have been feeling that same sense of lack of selfhood as they cared for the infant Jesus in the days after his birth. While Mary’s days would have been busy with all of the usual tasks of feeding and keeping clean a newborn, Joseph might very well have been at loose ends, working in his workshop, keeping his hands busy while he thought about all that happened to him and this new family that had come about so quickly. Even so, after a couple of weeks, it is likely that a certain sense of normalcy would have settled upon them, as it does with most young families.

So this new message that came from the angel, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him," would have created a great deal of consternation. They had managed to settle in and Jesus was growing in the way of children…surely they wouldn’t need to flee for their lives…but the angel was insistent, and Joseph listened. He told Mary to gather the baby and anything she could carry; he loaded their good and faithful donkey, and set out before the sun could rise and lead those who would kill the child right to them.

So Joseph, Mary, and Jesus step into the world of the exile. They flee to Egypt, following in the steps of Israelites generations before. A different Joseph—also a dreamer—was sent as a slave and became a high ranking servant of the Egyptian Pharaoh. This Joseph walks in with wife and child, seeking asylum from the Egyptian people so that he can make a living there until another dream calls him home again. Matthew’s Gospel shows a provident God who uses dreams to lead a compassionate and trusting father out of danger, so that the child Jesus will grow to become the savior of his people and generations to come.

Egypt became the childhood home of Jesus-perhaps for as much as ten years. Even though we don’t have the stories of Jesus’ childhood, in the Gospel of Matthew, the story is that it was in a foreign land that Jesus learned his father’s skills; it was there that he heard the stories of his people. For him, Egypt would be both the land from which his people had to escape…and the land that offered them refuge, saving him from the wrath of his own king.

We know that we are shaped by our experiences. Jesus’ formative years were lived as a refugee and an immigrant. We don’t know how he and his family were treated in Egypt, but we do know that when the Israelites left Egypt before, it was with Pharaoh’s army on their heels. It seems likely that Jesus’ family might not have been welcomed with open arms, and in fact, might very well have been met with suspicion and fear. And, as many immigrants have experienced, they might have lived as outcasts the whole time they were in Egypt. Even when they returned “home,” the family moved to Nazareth rather than returning to Bethlehem; again there is some likelihood that the family lived on the edges of the community.

Jesus was born into a people who had a history of caring for the stranger, or the foreigner in their midst because that is what they had experienced time after time. The story of the stranger comes out of the Exodus.  In chapter 19 of Leviticus we are told: “You shall treat the alien who resides with you no differently than the natives born among you; have the same love for him as for yourself; for you too were once aliens in the Land of Egypt.” Israel’s very identity is that of the Immigrant as Foundress.  It is Ruth who says to Naomi:  whither thou goest I will go; your people shall be my people; your God will be my God.

In the genealogy of Christ in first chapter of Matthew’s Gospel there are four uppity women who are Strangers:  Ruth, an immigrant from Moab; Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law; Rahab, prostitute of Jericho; and Bathsheba, wife of Uriah the Hittite and an adulteress.  All of these women are depicted as foreign and/or disreputable to indicate the importance of disruption in the formation of Israel’s identity and the shaping of the Covenental tradition of both Jews and Christians.

In our own day and time we find ourselves in the midst of the debate about an appropriate immigration policy. One side of the debate can be symbolized by laws such as the one passed in Fremont; the other side of the debate can be symbolized by the proposed bill named “The Dream Act. In between these two examples are churches offering amnesty for undocumented immigrants and families being separated by deportation. Caught up in all of these actions are conversations about states’ rights, federal responsibility, and the role of compassion. There are no easy answers.

When I read today’s Gospel lesson, however, I begin to wonder how our current debate might be changed within our churches if the rumor were to arise that the Christ Child had been born somewhere south of the border. And even more so if the story were to include details about the family trying to keep this new child alive by any means possible—including entering this country without documentation—in order to escape the violence of the drug wars. Would such a story change how we responded to their plight—and if we are truly followers of this Christ Child—should we treat anyone’s child differently than we would treat him?

Jesus became the advocate for the poor and downtrodden of our world at least partially because his family experienced the necessity of fleeing to save his life. For us to cut ourselves off from the immigrant or the stranger is to cut ourselves off from the source of our own faith traditions—and from most of our own ancestors who immigrated to this country at some point in time. The Community Organizer, Ernesto Cortez, Jr. says:

“… our faith tradition calls us to reach out to the Stranger, to be able to befriend those who are other – not part of our tribe.  God is not just a noun, but a verb.  St. Thomas Aquinas taught that God is pure act.  And Nicholas Lash reminds us that there is no distinction between what God is and what God does.  The more we reflect God’s divinity in our actions, the more human we become.  If we are truly made in God’s image, then we are called to act – to welcome the stranger.”

This Christmas season we are reminded that Emmanuel—God-With-Us—came in the birth of this child. This incarnation allowed God to experience the ups and downs of our life…and in the process Christ learned a better way that can lead us into God’s kingdom.  May we experience his birth this year in a way that leads to our continued transformation…and to the coming of the reign of God.

Alleluia, Jesus is born! May our lives reflect the gift of his life. Amen.

Blessings of the season to all of you!

Living the Story

Happy 5th day of Christmas! For those of you who asked...my Christmas Eve sermon.

I imagine that since you are here at this time of night on Christmas Eve when there have been so many other opportunities to be present at worship prior to this, your Christmas doesn’t feel quite right without worship and candles and getting out of church just about midnight. I know that mine doesn’t; in fact, I think that I am still missing that from last Christmas Eve when we chose safety and canceled this service! So what is it about Christmas that makes us want to be out and about at an hour when most of us are happily at home?

I think I’ve heard it over and over again this Christmas season; it’s “the magic” of Christmas for which the advertising agency tells that we are seeking. It is in our TV ads, TV specials, and our Christmas cards. The good news of the Christmas season according to the media is that there will be Christmas magic that will bring about the resolution to all of our problems.

One of my favorite Christmas myths, one that plays particularly upon the “magic” hour of midnight is the one that says that all of creation is truly made one. In that instant, when the clock strikes midnight, all the differences between heaven, earth, peoples and animals, is lifted. In that precious time between the chiming of the first bell of midnight and the last, animals and people can speak with one another and enemies become friends. At the end of the ringing, the world returns to the world we recognize, but it is hoped that this brief taste of the reign of God will be enough to encourage us to continue to live out the love of Christ all the rest of the year.

As I was drifting in and out of sleep this past week trying to get over my cold, I saw an interview with a Jesuit priest who has written a book saying that not only has there been a war on Christmas—we have lost the war. He quoted several recent polls taken in America that asked people what the most important thing was about Christmas. 48% of those who responded said that the most important thing about Christmas was family and being together; 37% said that the birth of Jesus was the most important thing. Apparently, while we have been busy looking for the “magic” of Christmas, we have missed the meaning in the birth of this child.

One of our wise children this Christmas asked why we kept talking about the birth of baby Jesus when everyone knew that he had already been born, lived a meaningful life, was crucified and raised from the dead. With all of that in his résumé, why did we spend so much time talking about his birth? That question has rattled around in my mind for the last couple of weeks as we have spent time preparing for the birth of a child a couple of thousands of years ago. Out of the mouths of children!

It is a theological question that we struggle with from time to time. Over the last 20 years or so, we have heard that someone is stealing the meaning of Christmas, but the church has been worried about this before. Christmas was not celebrated in the Early Christian Church until the Roman Empire was converted and named the Christmas celebration to help people move away from the Saturnalia, the ancient mid-winter celebration of the Roman gods. Christmas celebrations had become so boisterous, with so much attention on food and wine, that they were outlawed in England for 22 years during the mid-1600s; and the Puritans of Boston also did not allow for any practice of “The Christmas Spirit” during the early years. Historians say that it was the middle of the 1800s when this country began to practice Christmas in a way that we now say we long for—a quiet day that is family centered.

Yet even in this practice of Christmas, where do we find Jesus? Where do we find the mystery and awe that belong in this season for Christians, without the puritanical measures that would not allow for lights and happy songs? What is “the Spirit of Christmas” that we are told Scrooge—after his Christmas Eve scare and repentance—kept better than any man alive?

Mary’s song, the Magnificat that we have repeated each week during Advent, proclaims that her son will come to bring about a new world…a new creation that is even more wonderful than the first creation of Adam and Eve. This time, God’s reign will be made manifest in the way in which we live our lives. The poor will be lifted up…not walked over; there will be food to feed the hungry, and an equality will come about. This is the Christmas proclamation—Jesus the baby born this night so many years ago will grow up and show us how to live in God’s kingdom of justice and peace.

But we have missed the message. Over and over again, we miss it. Every year Christmas comes again and we celebrate the Prince of Peace while we wage war. We don’t understand why our celebrations seem to leave us feeling a little empty inside…even when we have the “perfect” Christmas planned.

In Charlie Brown's Christmas Special, that classic TV program of my childhood, Charlie Brown yells out in frustration: "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" "Sure," replies Linus. "I can tell you."

Linus then relates the story of the birth of Jesus as told in the Gospel of Luke that we read tonight. The birth of Mary's child is announced by an angel who tells shepherds living in the field:

'Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace...(Luke 2 NRSV).

What happened on the day Jesus was born? God broke through into the world again - but this time not with the force of the Big Bang or some other cosmic event - no, this time it was something even more powerful: the miracle of the birth of a child filled promise and hope. Both that miracle and the message that this child (born homeless and poor) brings (again and again) is what Christmas is about.

Do not be afraid," says the angel. Those born in the time of Jesus also knew about war and hunger and social divisions. Jesus offered a vision a time when all that would end...a time when "the wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together..." (Isaiah 11:6 NRSV)...a time when all humanity would live in divine harmony with all creation, as it was meant to be in the beginning.

I believe that even in the midst of war, deep global poverty and environmental chaos caused by humanity the message of the Prince of Peace is as relevant today as it was over 2,000 years ago. "War is over, if you want it," is the refrain to John Lennon's holiday song. The singer was right. So are poverty, hunger and division. We just have to accept the gift given to us by God on the first Christmas when Mary gave birth to the hope of the world and abide by Jesus' message of extravagant love and radical justice. We no longer have to be afraid. Our salvation has been here all along. There is cause to pick up a hymnal and sing "Joy to the World" after all.

Merry Christmas.

Brrr. Baby, it's cold....

I'm sitting in my office with my hands wrapped around a hot cup of chai. In order to have this "cuppa," I had to go out of my 68 degree office and down the much cooler (Tom says mid-50s) hallway; I then stood in the cold kitchenette (also 55 degrees) for 2 1/2 minutes while the microwave heated my water to the appropriate temperature. Gratefully, I warmed my hands and walked back to my office. There is little question that First Church has a warm heart, but the hallways are cold!

The minor challenge of negotiating from warm rooms through cold corridors served as a reminder to me that I am very blessed. There are far too many in our world who don't have any, or at least adequate, protection from the weather. They live their lives in boxes and tunnels, trying to scrape by and make do with what can be found discarded by those of us who have too much.

My "too much" is all around me; books stacked in bags and piles, looking like I have just come from the store. The reality is that the bags are part of my "filing system" so that I can find the books I am looking for at any given moment. But there are also boxes of books at my house that I have not unpacked from my last move into a smaller home.

Most of the time I can overlook the boxes and bags, but last week our daughter Joy brought back much of the furniture with which we had furnished her apartment. She was downsizing, moving from a one-bedroom apartment to an efficiency, and she said that she had discovered that she had "too much stuff!" Back came my grandmother's dining room table, three chairs, a bookcase, a bed ("You will need the bed!" I said; "No, I'll be sleeping on the floor" Korean-style), odds and ends of dishes and foodstuffs. The garage is once again full...not that it had been empty prior to the arrival of the bits and pieces of her life, coming to mingle with us again; Joy is not back home, but many of the things associated with her are.

It is easy for us to accumulate things that we don't really need. Some people are better than others at divesting themselves of the excess; John and I both tend to hang on to things (and people), never knowing when they might be necessary once again. Advent is a season when thoughtful Christians tend to reflect on the state of our souls as we are awaiting the birth of the Christ Child once again.

Jesus' birth  is told as a story of a child whose family just barely had enough. We don't know how true that is, but we claim his birth as the birth of a child born to parents who are scraping by. Jesus, born in a manger, is born in a town where his parents apparently have no near family, and shortly after his birth they flee for their lives and raise the boy as an exile in Egypt.

Wandering parents...life lived in exile...no wonder Jesus claimed that he had no place to call "home!" And without a home, no way to collect a library...a closet full of clothes...china cabinets...and.... Joy brought back many of the things that we had given her (and some that she had collected on her own) and declared that she "never wanted to have so much stuff again!" We looked at her box of Christmas things, carefully packed and labled "Danger," and smiled. Now where will we keep this box?

My cup is empty, but my heart is full. Advent is here and the weather reminds me to think of others. A friend is collecting sleeping bags to pass out to the homeless in Denver CO on Christmas Day; a local friend, Beatty Brasch has ways of helping the poor (especially the working poor) here in Lincoln. I have been blessed by so much. It is time to find ways to share with others...anybody need a table?

The World is about to Turn

I have had several requests to post Sunday's sermon, so...here it is. Still, I must say that they are much better preached...enfleshed...filled with the Spirit in the moment. Preaching is a very incarnational thing...

"Once upon a time there was a thief. He wasn’t really good at it. Not a professional at all. He was just a poor man, with hungry children and a wife who worked hard. He worked sometimes, but more often than not there was no job to be had and so no food either for hungry mouths. It hurt him to see his wife and children suffer so much and made him angry that there was no pity in the kingdom, no kindness or generosity in his neighbors.  He took a chance, a big chance, and stole some food. The king’s law was death by hanging if a thief was caught. He got away with it often. He took bread, apples, and flour when he could and sometimes a ribbon or two for the one he loved.

But he wasn’t good at it. He was just poor and hungry and desperate, and finally he got caught, with the bread in hand. He was jailed and sentenced to be hanged until dead, in public for all to see, as a warning to others. He was desperate, for life, for his family, and for their futures. In jail the night before the execution he told one of the guards in confidence that it was a shame that he would die tomorrow, for a secret, a great secret, and a skill would die with him. Too bad he couldn’t tell the secret to someone who could use it wisely or get it to the king, who certainly would be interested in it.

The jailer said that he’d be happy to take the secret of the dying man. And so the man told him: “I can take a pomegranate seed, plant it in the ground, water it, and make it grow so that it will bear fruit overnight. My father taught it to me, as his father taught him, for generations. But tomorrow it dies with me.”

The jailer could hardly believe his ears and immediately brought word to the king. The next day, before the execution the king arrived and had the poor man brought forward. “Let me see you do this marvelous thing,” the king commanded and so the man asked for a spade, dug a hole, asked for a pomegranate seed, and then turned to the king and spoke: “This seed can only be planted by someone who has never stolen anything in his life or someone who has never taken anything that did not belong to him by right. Of course, I am a thief, caught stealing bread for my children and wife, so I can’t plant it. You’ll have to have someone else do it.”

The king turned to his counselor and commanded him to plant it. The man froze and stuttered: “Tour majesty, I can’t”

“What do you mean you can’t?” the king uttered.

The counselor explained, “Once, when I was young, before I was in your employ, I took something from a house where I was staying. I returned it, of course, but I can’t plant it.”

The King was annoyed and turned to his treasurer and commanded him to plant it. The man went chalk white and shook. “I can’t, your majesty,” he confessed.

“What, you, too? What have you done? Have you stolen from me?”

“No, no, my king,” he protested, “but I work with figures, calculating all the time, and it’s easy to make mistakes, and I am forever trying to balance accounts, taking from here to put there. Whit huge sums of money, and deeds, contracts, and so on it’s easy to overlook something. Besides I often have to make deals with people so that better deals can be made later. It’s business, sire.”

The king turned to another, and instinctively the next man shrunk away from him. It was the poor man who spoke next. “Your majesty, perhaps you could plant it yourself.” This time it was the king who hesitated. So many things went through his mind. He remembered stealing from his father in anger, impatient to be king himself and wanting that power and freedom, that access to wealth. The poor man spoke boldly, “Your majesty, even you cannot plat the seed, you who are mighty with power over life and death; you who have wealth and much more than you need to live on; you who make laws that destroy even the poor who are desperately hungry and caught in the web of others’ greed and insensitivity. You can’t plant the seed. You are a thief. Why are you so hard on me, a poor man who stole bread to feed his family? You are going to hang me, leaving others in need with no recourse.”

The king stopped. He heard, thank heaven, and repented of his harshness and injustice, his callousness and disdain for others. He pardoned the man who reminded him to first change the laws and then to work at making life worth living for so many in his kingdom. The king was impressed with the poor man’s wisdom, cleverness, and understanding and took him into his employ. Things began to change…or so the story goes. Would that it were true for all those who hear this tale told today."

Story adapted and re-told from Megan McKenna,

“Advent, Christmas and Epiphany:

Stories and Reflections on the Sunday Readings”

It has been said that the spiritual journey most often begins in brokenness. Certainly for the thief and king in our story today this is true. It is also the model we find in our Gospel lesson for today. John the Baptist recognizes the brokenness in his society, in his people, and in the world they inhabit, and he calls them all to repent…to do things differently than they had been doing them.

There is great wisdom in this saying. Those who study human behavior say that we seldom will make lasting changes in our behavior until we must make changes to save our lives. Not only is this true for individuals, it is true for tribal groups and countries, too. John the Baptist, taking his cue from prophets before him issues the call, and the people sensing the truth in his words and fearing that once again they will be taken into exile, flock to be baptized.

Mary had heard the promise year’s before. Once she had accepted the commissioning to bear Jesus, the son of God, she set out to visit a distant relative. Once there, she revealed that she had indeed been blessed with the child who would once again change the course of the world. Mary’s song, as it is recorded for us in the Gospel of Luke, echoes the song of Hannah in 1^st Samuel…and the prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah:

Mary said, “My soul exalts the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.  For He has had regard for the humble state of His handmaiden; for behold, for this time on all generations will count me blessed. For the Mighty One has done great things for me; and holy is His name. And His mercy is upon generation after generation toward those who fear Him.  He has done mighty deeds with His arm; He has scattered those who were proud in the thoughts of their heart.  He has brought down rulers from their thrones, and has exalted those who were humble.  He has filled the hungry with good things; and sent away the rich empty-handed.  He has given help to Israel His servant, in remembrance of His mercy, as He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and his descendants forever.” Luke 1:46-55

God will bring down the mighty and lift up the poor and marginalized. Those are the proud affirmations that Mary brings to us, and this is the leader for whom John the Baptist prepares us.

On this second Sunday in Advent we find ourselves in the desert with the Baptizer and the multitudes who have heard his call. But it is not enough for us to stay there; we are called to live in our own time and hear the voice of God for our own lives. Who are the poor and marginalized in our world that we are called to care for? What are the structures that must be changed in order for us to “prepare the way” for the reign of God to break into Lincoln NE, December 2010? Where are we and our society broken and of what do we need to repent?

Today we are taking an offering to care for those who are living with AIDS; we have called it an “AIDS Awareness Offering” because that is part of the purpose for gathering the money, but the purpose is to raise funds to care for those who suffer from this terrible disease. Raising awareness also helps us to address the issues that surround this marginalized population, both here and around the world. We invite you, not only to give, but to learn more about the work that is being done to care for those living on the edges of health and healing.

On Tuesday night, we have the opportunity to go and listen to Lincoln’s own herald; Nebraskans for Peace, Lincoln Chapter, has invited Beatty Brasch to share with us the face of poverty in Lincoln. At 7:00 p.m. you are all invited to go to the Center for People in Need on N. 27^th Street and hear about what poverty looks like right here at home; you will have the chance to volunteer and help Beatty meet some of the need for local folks. I invite you to come and see the amazing work that she—and a whole host of others are doing to “fill the hungry with good things.”

The thief in the story raises the question of the fairness of the laws that condemn him. In doing so, he challenges the assumptions of his society. The birth of Jesus, born to a poor young mother who proclaims her place in changing the world, is set to help turn the world around. John the Baptist calls for us to repent—let’s join Mary in transforming evil and corrupt systems in our own time and place.

We give God our thanks and praise for the opportunity to be change agents in our world. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Advent Waiting

A number of years ago, I wrote a poem about the season of Advent. At the time, my husband and I were going through difficult times; in fact, I had been living with a friend for a couple of months while we were going through marriage counseling. As part of that counseling, we had agreed to spend Advent in prayer together, studying the scriptures and talking about our relationship.

Even though we weren't living together, we made a covenant to meet each evening. In preparation for this great undertaking, I wrote the following poem:

                                     Slowly, I take my first tentative steps
                                         on my journey through Advent,
                                         my hopes and fears adding their colors
                                         to the red and green of the Christmas season.
                                    With the breathless anticipation of a child
                                         I watch Advent unfold,
                                         each day presenting me with
                                         challenges and opportunities
                                         like treasures hidden behind
                                         the doors of childhood's Advent calendars.
                                    What will I find in your heart tonight?

We met with such hope that, in the mystery and wonder of Christmas trees and candles, we would again find the magic of love that had brought us together. It was a great deal of pressure to put on one another during an already stressful season.

As a pastor, I see this scene played out over and over again during the holidays. Families that are busy with separate activities during all of the rest of the year, come together over a Thanksgiving turkey or a Christmas tree. Everyone brings high hopes that, this year, conflict and hurt feelings will magically melt away and be healed. Sometimes that happens...but most often the brokenness remains.

John the Baptist knew the brokenness of people. He went out into the wilderness and called people to come away--away from the busyness of their lives, away from family and friends--and come to the water to be washed clean. "Repent!" he cried, inviting them to turn around...to turn back to God and away from the things that had led them away from the love of God.

The Hebrew people repeated daily, several times a day, "Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord they God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might." (Deut. 6:4-5). The "Shema," as this was called was to be written on the forehead, the hand, and the door posts of their homes so that they would never forget it; it was designed to keep God always before them. And yet, being human beings (often described as "sheep") they tended to wander off. John the Baptist reminded them to return to holding God always in their sight.

That's a lot of what my Advent poem did for me...for us. It was a reminder to re-focus on the love that had brought us together. That year, our wilderness wanderings in Advent led me back home, just days before Christmas. The tentativeness of the poem was matched by our equally tentative journey toward God and one another. That Christmas was quiet and profound, rich with new meaning for us both.

As we begin Advent this year, I find that I am hearing John the Baptist's voice loud and clear: "Turn around!" he cries. "Turn from the busyness and the chaos and focus on God." I brought out my poem again and "Slowly, I take my first tentative steps...on my journey through Advent." I wonder what God will find in my heart tonight?

Blessings for your Advent turnings and wanderings!

Much Obliged

Dear Friends--I was reading my e-mail the other day, trying to catch up. I came across this blog by another UM pastor. I have read Steve's blog for a number of years and always find his reflections helpful. Because we have been focusing on being thankful and experiencing the gift of generosity, I thought that you all might enjoy reading this as well. This blog is re-posted with Steve's permission. If you like what you read, you might go to the link I've included and check it out for yourself--he sends his blog by occasional e-mail.

Much obliged myself to Steve...and to all of you!

MUCH OBLIGED

Like most parents, I taught my children to say "thank you" 
frequently and hoped that giving thanks might become a life habit. 
After all, silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone. But I think 
that what I hoped to teach them was not simply to say thanks, but to 
feel it. I believe that thankful people are happy people.

The late Dr. Fulton Oursler used to tell of an old woman who took 
care of him when he was a child -- a woman who not only expressed 
her thanks, but felt it. Anna was a former American slave who, after 
emancipation, was hired by the family for many years.

He remembered her sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded and 
her eyes gazing upward as she prayed, "Much obliged, Lord, for my 
vittles." He asked her what vittles were and she replied that they 
were food and drink. He told her that she would get food and drink 
whether or not she gave thanks, and Anna said, "Yes, we'll get our 
vittles, but it makes 'em taste better when we're thankful."

She told him that an old preacher taught her, as a little girl, to 
always look for things to be grateful for. So, as soon as she awoke 
each morning, she asked herself, "What is the first thing I can be 
grateful for today?" Sometimes the smell of early-morning coffee 
perking in the kitchen found its way to her room. On those mornings, 
the aroma prompted her to say, "Much obliged, Lord, for the coffee. 
And much obliged, too, for the smell of it!"

Young Fulton grew up and left home. One day he received a message 
that Anna was dying. He returned home and found her in bed with her 
hands folded over her white sheets, just as he had seen them folded 
in prayer over her white apron at the kitchen table so many times 
before.

He wondered what she could give thanks for at a time like this. As 
if reading his mind, she opened her eyes and gazed at the loving 
faces around her bed. Then, shutting her eyes again, she said 
quietly, "Much obliged, Lord, for such fine friends."

Oursler was deeply influenced by Anna's uncanny ability to always 
find some reason to be "much obliged." This wise woman taught him a 
secret that many people have never learned: she taught him how to be 
happy.

-- Steve Goodier www.LifeSupportSystem.com

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Doing Good

John Wesley, the accidental founder of the Christian belief system called "Methodism," has been quoted saying: "Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can." No one can tell me this is not a tall order, nor can they tell me it is easy to accomplish. Sometimes to our chagrin, we discover that the good we planned on doing was not helpful after all. How do we figure out the "good" thing to do?

There is a lovely story from the Taoist tradition that teaches this challenge well. The story goes something like this: An old farmer had worked his crops faithfully for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. "Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. "Maybe," the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "May be," replied the old man. The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "Maybe," answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "Maybe," said the farmer...

How do we recognize good things, even for ourselves and our own lives? Imagine how much more difficult it is then, to make decisions that affect the lives of others, assuming that we know the best outcome in all circumstances. In faith circles, we speak about "discerning" God's will about such issues and questions, but there is little doubt that everything is open for review and debate.

Last night First Church had our Church Conference. For those of you who are not certain what that is, it is our annual meeting with the District Superintendent. Part of that meeting is to look back over the previous year to see what was successful and where we were not quite as successful as we might have hoped. But we also spend time looking to the future, discerning as a community of faith where God might be calling us to become more engaged.

We had great conversation around two possible new ministries: Children's ministries with the children in our own neighborhood around Huntington Elementary...Dawes Middle School...North East High school; and looking East from the church, out beyond Nebraska Wesleyan connecting to the families who are only a couple of miles from us in that direction. Added to this second ministry field was conversation around other areas of the city where we may have 4-5 people (or more) living in the same general location, and how we might better interact with them through small groups, or...?

Needless to say, the conversation is just beginning. We intend to spend some time looking at issues and options, keeping an open heart and working to discern God's call for us at this time. I invite you to join in on the conversations and help us figure out how we can do the "all the good we can..."!

Paddling Away

Last Sunday was a day full of exciting conversations and events around First UMC Lincoln.

In the morning we had several different ways to connect: we had roses and talk about all the Saints--those who have come before and those who are currently living and working in the church; one Sunday School class discussed the nature of marriage...and another talked about the importance of bread; we listened to  music from our own musicians and the visiting Huntington Trio from Nebraska Wesleyan; children played and studied and helped serve communion.   In the afternoon we opened our doors to the community and invited in friends and neighbors to a civil conversation about faith and immigration, beginning with children dancing and ending with dinner and discussion around tables; others in the building discussed the nature of prayer and eternity and others practiced the ancient form of reading scripture called Lectio Divina. When we turned out the lights and locked the doors about 7 p.m. we knew that we had experienced the grace of God in a hundred different ways; we were full to overflowing and grateful to let the love of God carry us home.

In the reading "Whitewater World!" from our devotional book this week,  Bishop Schnase reflects on his experience canoeing and kayaking in Central America. When his son asked "Why do we have to paddle when the river is pushing us downstream anyway?" the guide answered: "The only way we have any control over the direction we are going is for us to be moving just a little faster than the current below us. So we have to paddle constantly, or else we just get pushed along out of control." That's what we were doing all day on Sunday--we were paddling just a little bit faster than the water would carry us forward in worship, education, and community involvement.

Our lives are moving us along at a pretty good clip. If we are not paddling fast enough for us to negotiate the twists and turns in the river--not to mention the rapids--then we are likely to fall victim to swift water. As I was reading this devotion, I was reminded of my own canoeing days and particularly the day when my canoe tipped over, spilling me and all of my belongings into the river. Fortunately, I was with experienced adults who had helped me to pack most of my gear in plastic and had tied it into the canoe. While I was soaking wet, the day was sunny and I was able to dry out as we continued on down the river after we had captured my errant canoe. I lost my glasses in the water, which seemed like a small thing in comparison to what could have happened; however, I am extremely myopic and I became increasingly dependent on others to help me pitch my tent, do my chores, and guide my canoe for the rest of the week.

Because of my own experience paddling downstream, I understood what Schnase was suggesting when he wrote about the need to keep paddling in order to stay in control of the canoe. But because I had also had to contend with not being able to see anything past the tip of my nose, I know the importance of having an experienced guide and a community that can assist in a variety of circumstances. Continuing my week-long canoe and camping trip would have been impossible by myself, and the lesson has served me well negotiating in a society that puts high value on being self-sufficient.

One of the most terrifying things about traveling the river without my glasses was that I could not see any of the boulders that lay just below the surface of the rapidly moving water. Life lived at a fast pace can be just as scary because we often do not know of the dangers just below the surface in many of our situations. Traveling with companions can help us navigate beyond the danger with a guide encouraging us to "pull hard to the right!" or "all paddles to the left!"

That's the work we are doing here at First Church right now. We are paddling as though our lives depended upon it, working together to keep moving forward, straining for the "Shalom of God" (as some have re-named the Kingdom of God). With the love of God binding us together, let's keep paddling away, moving just a bit faster than the river beneath us!

Giving It All Away

We are using a devotional booklet at church for a program that we call "Seasons of Generosity." The devotional, written by Bishop Robert Schnase, is entitled "Practicing Extravagant Generosity," and has wonderful reflections on the grace of giving. Yesterday's reading was about our partnering with God, and the phrase that caught my attention was: "God uses our practice of giving to reconfigure our interior life. By giving, we craft a different inner desire as the driving element of life. Our motivations change."

I thought the reading was interesting. I pondered what it might mean in someone's life. And then I went on with my busy day.

But last night when John came home from work, he was unwinding by reading through the news pieces on AOL. He came upon one that he just had to share with me--and in light of the reflection for the day, I needed to share with you. The headline to the story was: "Couple Wins $11.2M Lottery, then Gives it All Away." Who wouldn't be intrigued? So we read on.

According to the AOL news story, the Canadian couple (Allen and Violet Large) play the lottery twice each week; they win small sums occasionally, never more than $1000. When they won the surprisingly large amount of money, they decided that they were already lucky enough and that this much money was too big of a headache; so, they proceeded to give it away. A number of local churches, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army all were blessed by generous donations, as were the hospitals that had cared for Violet during her treatment for cancer. Allen said the money was not important; what was important was that they had each other.

I was touched by the story. I also have to admit that I am not sure I would do the same thing. Sure, I would give away some of it; but ALL of it? I just don't know.

Mara Gay, the author of the story, calls the couple humble. I call them amazing. I wonder what the other people in their family call them--even though the story says that they made sure the family was taken care of before they gave away all the money. I wonder how they have been changed by the last four months of giving...giving...and more giving. I wonder if people will leave them alone, or if they will be hounded by others who did not receive a gift from them.

When we have a memorial or funeral service here at the church, we often pray the prayers found in our hymnal. One of those prayers states: "O God, all that you have given us is yours...." Sometimes before we take the offering on Sundays we say something similar. And yet, in our day-to-day living it is so incredibly difficult for us to believe that. But maybe that is part of why Allen and Violet Large were able to give all their winnings away so freely; maybe it truly did feel as though God had given them all this gift so that they could give it away to others who could do something useful with it.

Of course, generosity is not just about giving away money or things. There is also a generosity of spirit that shapes the way we live in the world. Living with "open hands" as we approach volunteering or welcoming strangers in our midst is equally important.

As I am working to get ready for this Sunday's Immigration Event--"A Conversation on Faith and Immigration", I guess that is what I am praying for: "God, give me an open and generous spirit." As Bishop Schnase says: "God uses our practice of giving to reconfigure our interior life...Our motivations change." The Biblical quote for the day says: "They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share...so that they may take hold of the life that really is life." (1 Timothy 6:18-19)

I want to be generous. I want to be able to "give it all away" with as much humility and grace as Allen and Violet Large. I want to be changed in such a way that all will know me to be a follower of Christ, who was so generous that he gave away his life to show us what it is all about. I think that I may have already "won the lottery;" now I just need to practice giving it all away.

Courage to Change

On Sunday morning, Pastor Larry spoke about courage as one of the most important characteristics of a Christian. He quoted Rev. William Sloane Coffin, pastor of Riverside Church in New York: "...of all Christian virtues, courage is the most important." I don't remember courage being one of the "gifts of the spirit" often lifted up when we think of the things needed to be a Christian. I guess that says a lot about the world in which I grew up; it seems like it took much more courage to not claim to be a Christian when I was growing up.

But when I say that, I have to reflect on the sort of Christianity that is fostered by not needing to be courageous; it is a Christianity that tends to take far too much for granted. Such a faith always assumes that the Church will be there, that the doors will be open and that people will know the love of God. Such a faith is built on the assumption that being Christian is the primary "Operating System" of the society in which we live...and that the form and beliefs of all Christians are in sync with one another. I think that we, as a society, have operated under these and other assumptions like these for far too long; and that it has led to a weaker and far less courageous Christianity.

Pastor Larry also quoted Doris Lessing, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2007, saying "You must find the courage to swim against the collective stream of mediocrity and never resign yourself to the limitations imposed by others." When we approach Christianity with these words, we begin to hear an encouragement to change the way we, in this country, have often lived out our faith. Let me quickly add that this is not true for all Christians in America, but many have born the name "Christian" without living out the depth of that calling.

Bishop Schnase begins his book of meditations, Practicing Extravagant Generosity, by focusing on changing our concept of stewardship to one of generosity; he says that he has to explain the concept of stewardship to his teenage sons, but "They know generosity when they see it." We are invited to begin exploring the concept of generosity through the story of nesting birds, birds who create a nest for the next generation rather than for themselves. He continues to explore and reflect on sowing seeds, acting in partnership with God, and practicing giving. Bishop Schnase uses short stories to encourage us to see generosity in new ways.

Gently, Bishop Schnase is inviting us to have the courage to begin living increasingly generous lives. Doing so will not only change the lives of those who receive our gifts, it will change us in the doing. We will be exploring at an ever deepening level what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, a disciple that not only claims the name of Christian, but one who makes a difference in the world. We are both being called and invited to have the courage to do a bold thing, even if it makes our stomachs a bit "queasy."

We are not called to be disciples of the comfortable life; we are called to be disciples who make a difference in the world, to be practitioners of self-giving love. This may represent a change from the call you thought you once heard in the church. I invite you to courageously explore what being a Christian in this light might mean for you.

One last quote: "Once you make the unequivocal internal commitment to do something--when you absolutely know this is the time and the place to act--the world around you will shift in all sorts of apparently miraculous ways to make it happen." (Sarah Susanka) Let's look for ways of committing wholeheartedly to the call of Christ; when we do so, the world will act in concert with us and we shall be changed. Be brave this week and practice acts of generosity!

Justice is Love with Legs

When I went to seminary, I felt like I had finally come home; the teaching of professors at Iliff School of Theology was a "Theology with Skin On" in a way I had never before experienced. I began to learn that Christianity, as an incarnational theology, was about action at least as much as about belief. I began to understand God's option for the poor and the outcast in new ways. As I did so, I was challenged to begin to practice my understanding of what God calls us to be as disciples.

In United Methodist Church circles, our current conversations are often about how we can shape disciples "that make a difference." It isn't about believing in a particular way; it is about living a life that has been transformed by God's love and then acting in such a way as to share that love with others. We use the language "risk-taking mission," which is something that goes beyond compassion and moves us toward societal change.

As my husband John would be sure to tell you, I tend to be a bit "all or nothing" in my approach to the world. So, when I began to take this lesson to heart, I believed that we should move away from charitable work and work exclusively in activist practices. I moved rapidly beyond compassion and mercy and went directly to justice and transformation. It was a radical change for me, and a bit startling for others. Needless to say, I need a pretty large dose of grace added to my thought and action!

My second appointment was to Northeast Omaha where I served both Pearl Memorial and Asbury United Methodist Churches. One of the ministries of the parish was a neighborhood food pantry that had begun out of the compassionate actions of members who began to bring food to church for some neighbors who were going hungry. As the need was great, the ministry grew and grew, and by the time I left that appointment, the pantry served between 200-300 people per month. I learned first hand just how necessary are the safety nets of programs like food pantries and weekend Backpacks (one of our current mission programs); they just need to be coupled with other ministries that seek to transform our communities into places where no one will go hungry.

The members of Pearl and Asbury taught me a great deal about both grace and risk-taking mission. They understood the importance of serving others at the point of their need AND working to change the systems of injustice that contributed to the problems. As Bishop Schnase says in his book Five Practices of Fruitful Living, "I never would have chosen this for myself," but I am intensely grateful for the opportunity to have lived in the neighborhood and to have served in a mission community.

"Justice is love with legs" is an expression that talks about the political expression of God's love. Bishop Schnase says that it is "...when the followers of Jesus learn to love strangers by relieving suffering through programs that prevent diseases, healthcare systems that serve all people, and labor policies that are fair. Social justice ministries seek the conversion of social structures toward greater justice, helping people to flourish." We learn to love others, not just by helping meet a current need, but by working to change the systems that have created the situation in the first place.

The United Methodist Church Nebraska Conference sent me to a place where I could be transformed; my heart was "broken open" by a love that was both compassionate and justice-oriented. In that place, I learned to love and live out the teaching of Micah 6:8: "...what does God require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" (NRSV) I am thankful for the experience and the lessons...

Growing in Grace

Intentionally growing in our understanding of God is the focus of our worship for this Sunday. In particular, we will be hearing about how United Methodist Women have historically practiced learning and doing together. I am looking forward to our guest speaker, Marilyn Zehring, who will bring an exciting perspective to our conversation.

That being said, you all should know that I tend to do this intentional faith development stuff to the nth degree; I am a fiend for continually learning and exploring the ways that God intersects daily life. I will do this all on my own--but love having one or two people who want to join along with me. I find the process fascinating; it is a delving into who I am, followed by a reaching out to who God is, followed by a return to the depths of my being to sort out how the intersection of these two beings creates something new and more in both. I do this best through some creative medium, whether that be poetry...a collage...or some other artistic expression. My favorite venue includes pictures and words combined...

Something New

In an attempt to invite greater conversation about the things that impact our lives, I have decided to join the blogosphere. In particular, I hope that this space will provide reflection about Sunday services at First UMC in Lincoln.

As we move through the seasons of our lives together, I hope that this format will provide new ways of conversing and reflecting together.  Be careful, though; things discussed and commented upon may find their way into some up-coming sermon!