First, from John 17:20-25
20-23I'm praying not only for them
But also for those who will believe in me
Because of them and their witness about me.
The goal is for all of them to become one heart and mind—
Just as you, Abba God, are in me and I in you,
So they might be one heart and mind with us.
Then the world might believe that you, in fact, sent me.
The same glory you gave me, I gave them,
So they'll be as unified and together as we are—
I in them and you in me.
Then they'll be mature in this oneness,
And give the godless world evidence
That you've sent me and loved them
In the same way you've loved me.
And now from Ephesians 3: 20-21
20-21God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! God does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, the Holy Spirit deeply and gently within us.
One of the great things that happens for me on vacation is that I have the time and desire to just think about things. At other times, I’m running to and fro, with a tight schedule, making sure I don’t forget anything (and that seems to get harder with each passing year) and working hard at keeping all my priorities in line. But two weeks ago, while we were on vacation, at Terri’s request, we spent a couple of days just being. One morning as we were sitting on the patio eating breakfast, God’s spirit broke into my heart. I was actually eating a banana, not a particularly theological pursuit, when out of the blue it dawned on me how incredibly different a banana is from an orange, or a strawberry, or a watermelon, or any other fruit for that matter. I allowed myself to gaze around at the flowers and foliage in the courtyard and began to notice, really notice, the intricate differences between each plant. Suddenly I was in tears and trying to explain to a now somewhat confused partner, how God was speaking to me about the wonder of the variety of creation and how that relates to the incredible bunch of people who make up this glorious church of ours. Now many of you are relatively new to Open Circle and may not really know how Open Circle came to be. But on this day of our first retreat when we want to spend some time envisioning a future for our church, I thought it important to talk a little bit about the dreams that made Open Circle a reality. Now my dream was just one of several that came together in the special way that only God works—and it is poured into the bucket of dreams of many—all of which combine to make Open Circle what you see today.
Just like many of you, there was a time when I had forgotten how to dream—forgotten that God had more in store for me than I could imagine—forgotten that God’s dreams for me were larger than I could ever dream for myself. As God began to speak to me about planting a church here in The Villages (and God used some of you sitting right here to do that), many of the other paths that God had led me on began to take on new meaning and make more sense. You see, planting a church is different from leading an established church and it began to become clear to me that all of my previous work was somehow a part of God’s plan to prepare me to lead in this very special place in a very special way. I have many bananas and oranges and strawberries and even kiwi or two along my way. All different, all planned by God. All united in the purpose of serving God and you here, in this church. And God said, “it is good!”
More importantly, God has placed all of you here, now, in this place with all of your bananas and strawberries and exotic fruit with fancy names and united us here as one body, one mind in Christ Jesus. Now...have you ever wondered why God placed us in a world so full of variety that there are still species of plants and animals that some have not even yet been discovered. Think a minute—even if every fruit looked and tasted like a banana we would still be healthy eating them—but God wanted more than just survival for us—God gave us variety, and that variety, my friends is indeed the spice of life at Open Circle.
I invite you to look around—there are singers and writers, chemists and computer gurus, bookkeepers and teachers and artists. There are young people, older people, moms and dads, grandmothers and grandfathers—maybe even a great-grand or two. There are native Floridians (well, at least a few) and New Yorkers, Midwesterners, and southerners and those from lands other than where we live now. There are golfers, softball players, players of that other incredibly dangerous game with the weird name where you hit a ball with a racquet and run backwards at rapid speeds, swimmers, runners, and those of us who love to watch what the rest of you do. There are those who love football, baseball, basketball or no ball. There are morning people, night people, partyers, and those who like to stay at home. There are Baptists and Pentecostals, Presbyterians and Catholics, Mormans and Buddhists and those who claim no previous faith at all. And God said, “it is good”.
And so, today as we seek to know God’s vision and, therefore, our vision for this church, I invite you to remember that we are not all bananas. But we come together in the way that Jesus calls us together in today’s reading: Jesus says: I'm praying not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me because of them and their witness about me.
The goal is for all of them to become one heart and mind— Just as you, Abba God, are in me and I in you, so they might be one heart and mind with us.” So today, Jesus prays for those of us who are already here that, through us, many will hear the good news of God’s unconditional acceptance and our radical hospitality.
But what is it that unites all of us with our varieties of backgrounds and skills, likes and dislikes, needs and gifts? Well-known businessman, Lee Iaccoa recalls in his autobiography called simply Iacocca, that he once asked the legendary coach Vince Lombardi what it took to make a winning team. Lombardi’s answer is as good for churches as it is for football teams: “there are lots of coaches with good ball clubs who know the fundamentals and have plenty of discipline but still don’t win the game. Then you come to the third ingredient: If you’re going to play together as a team, you’ve got to care for one another. You’ve got to love each other. Each player has to be thinking about the next guy and saying to himself: If I don’t block that man, Paul is going to get his legs broken. I have to do my job well in order that he can do his. “The difference between mediocrity and greatness,” Lombardi said that night, “is the feeling these guys have for each other.” My friends, I am standing here today suggesting to you that it is the feeling that we have one for another, the love we have one for another, that sets us apart and calls us to greatness as a church—as God’s church in this world large and small, here in Lake, Sumter, and Marion counties.
Jesus continues: So they'll be as unified and together as we are—
I in them and you in me. Then they'll be mature in this oneness, And give the godless world—(that is those who do not know of God’s unconditional acceptance and our radical hospitality) evidence that you've sent me and loved them in the same way you've loved me.
As a child of God, my mission has long been to bring the knowledge of God’s unconditional acceptance and redemption to all. By extending compassion, caring, celebration, and welcome to those with whom we come in contact, we embody the unfailing love that that God has for us, and become a grace-filled presence in the lives of those who respond.
At some point in this multi-layered journey, MCC required that I state my personal values that I bring to the task of pastoring this church: We will discussing in the next few hours what values and visions we bring to this church. I thought it might help if you heard an expanded version of what I wrote now almost a year ago. These then are the values on which I base my work with you and my service to God:
• Integrity—the transparency of motive, desire, and commitment—otherwise known as “what you see is what you get”,
• Wholeness—the integration of mind, body, spirit—we are created good as whole people and our sexuality is a beautiful expression of who we are—God’s children,
• Faithfulness—the ability to remain faithful to a person, group of persons, or cause in spite of adversities—and you all have rewarded my faithfulness with a faithfulness to this church that is nothing less than amazing,
• Compassion—the willingness to live “God” in the form which others need instead of remaining merely comfortable in my expressions of God’s love for others, and, finally,
• Inclusion—the commitment to welcome all into my life and faith, stranger and friend alike with no conditions.
And into this faith-filled and welcoming place comes God among us—and so we join with Paul in the closing of his prayer for the Gentiles in Ephesus and us, now in Open Circle: “Now unto God, the God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power of the Holy Spirit who works in us, here at Open Circle; unto our Holy Creator, be the glory that is made manifest in this church, and in our lives, world without end! Amen and amen!
Welcome!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
First Things First-Finding Your Mission in Life Preached 10/17/2010
Scripture: Mark 12:28-34 (Today's New International Version)
One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"
"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."
"Well said, teacher," the man replied. "You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices."
When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, "You are not far from the kingdom of God." And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.
“Shema Israel!” This is the beginning of the most important Jewish proclamation in scripture. Our devout Jewish friends remind themselves many times each day—every time they pass a Mezuzah (that small holder of these words and the Torah attached to the doors of their houses). If you look by the door to this temple, you will find just such a mezuzah. At one point in my upstate New York journey, I lived right smack in the middle of the Borscht Belt—an area marked with a conglomeration of resorts, camps, and little villages populated every summer by the Jewish families who fled New York City for the peacefulness of the foothills of the NY mountains. By the time I lived there, many of these resorts had fallen on bad times. Mostly they were used for training events and conferences. I remember attending one of these events and walking up and down the halls amazed at the wonderful variety and beauty of these mezuzahs on each door. It was impossible to go in the door to your room without noticing…what a beautiful reminder of our never-changing need to declare who our God is. “ Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.” Jesus knew this commandment well—he was one of the Jewish children who had learned it over time, in the temple, in His home, in the very streets and roads of the lands that he walked as He grew up. And so, when He is asked which commandment is the greatest, Jesus answered, "The first is, 'Hear, O Israel”. Jesus doesn’t stop there, however, He continues: “The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these."
In its Old Testament setting, the command to love God with all your heart, soul, and strength was accompanied by a promise—the promise of long and good lives. In the second instance, there is no such promise attached because Jesus IS the promise—these words are spoken directly to us, the direct heirs of the Old Testament promise made manifest in Jesus Himself. No more need for promises, the promise has arrived.
And Jesus, the embodiment of this promise, shows us again in this second commandment what really matters in His ministry—love and inclusivity. Now we know that most of the time our traditional outreach tends to bring in more folks that look “just like us”. But Jesus calls us to do more. Churches who respond to this call have developed a practice referred to as “radical hospitality”. Reaching beyond those usually sought for church activities, these churches seek people who otherwise would never come in touch with any faith tradition at all. We know that Jesus modeled this for us in His own ministry—a ministry to the most outcast of the earth. How does this fit with these words of Jesus?
Like it or not, Jesus had a way of putting things in context. The first commandment serves as the backdrop to the second. The second commandment which, according to Jesus, is “like the first” is to “love your neighbor as yourself”. Understanding that we find it difficult to understand how to love God and Jesus gives us the answer before we even formulate the question. We love God by loving our neighbor as ourselves. Oh good, we can all go home now…Not so fast…do we even begin to know what that means?
There is an interesting poem entitled “Outwitted” by Edwin Markham written in the early 20th Century. I believe that a few lines may speak to our dilemma here.
He drew a circle that shut me out—…
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
What would it look like if every time someone drew a circle that shut us out of their lives, we lovingly drew a circle that enlarged our view and priorities and re-included the very ones who shut us out? I suspect that most of the time when people draw us as individuals or community out of their circles, it is because we have missed what is most important to them to have IN their circles. When we fail to love others or express our love in ways that they cannot hear, we must acknowledge our need to learn to love anew. Mahatma Gandhi challenged us as we think about living the love of God in the world when he said: “There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” Am I able to accept that for those fundamentally hungry people, that nothing I have to offer them EXCEPT BREAD will do? This is uncommon compassion—granting the priority to the other’s need and setting out to enlarge the circle of what I have to offer to ensure that I can meet the other’s need. This is the love of God, lived in the world—allowing my neighbor to tell me what my ministry and lifework needs to be.
As we enlarge this circle, as we learn to love differently, placing the neighbor’s need as crucial to who we are. And this is, of course, hard—Hear Marge Piercy’s words:
Learning to love differently is hard,
Love with the hands wide open,
Love with the doors banging on their hinges,
The cupboard unlocked…
How do we unlock the cupboards of our hearts and, more importantly, our priorities when it comes to loving our neighbors as ourselves. Uncommon compassion challenges us to redefine who are neighbors are. Uncommon compassion leads us to question how it is that we love? How do we include others in our circle? When Terri and I first started living together (my apologies up front to her for telling this story), I set out to learn those things about her that I would need to know in order to live together well. First of all, I discovered that she is very easy to live with and almost nothing bothers her. However, I also learned that she is, what I thought to be, unusually invested in the state and status of the toothpaste tube; that is, one must always flatten out the tube so that it is ready for the next use. Now I will admit that I was just a teeny bit less committed to that practice than she was. One day, while she was lovingly and quite humorously, I thought, engaging me in yet another conversation about the toothpaste, just to mess with her, I inquired, “Why is it that we can’t compromise on this?” She replied, “We can compromise, you can have your own tube!” It has, of course, become one of “the stories” that we laugh about as it defines who we are in our relationship.
However, while such a story can be funny, the principle of compromise by “each person doing their own thing” is not quite so humorous when applied to the really important things in life and, more importantly, in church. But we do it all the time! Entire denominations and movements were founded on that very principle! I know that I engage in this kind of “get your own toothpaste” thinking when I resist change, when I resist losing those things about our services and ministries that are comfortable for me. I know that I run into others’ “get your own toothpaste” thinking when I suggest change or look for ways to make some of what we do more inviting to those who do not currently feel welcome.
Jesus, on the other hand, would agree with Ghandi, who I quoted a few moments ago. Can we as individuals and as a church, discover what each person is hungry for and appear to them as God? If it is bread, we become filling bread. If it is acceptance, we become unconditional acceptance. If it is belonging, we become a welcoming belonging. Uncommon compassion defined as love and concern that generates acts of welcome and invitation that exceeds what we commonly hold as acceptable will push us as individuals and as a church to experience the radical hospitality that God extends to us and will enable us to open wide the doors of our hearts, souls, and sanctuary to draw a circle around the very persons who shut us out. And so, together we draw our circle larger and larger until every child of God feels welcome in our lives, in our hearts, and in our church.
Amen and Amen.
One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"
"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."
"Well said, teacher," the man replied. "You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices."
When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, "You are not far from the kingdom of God." And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.
“Shema Israel!” This is the beginning of the most important Jewish proclamation in scripture. Our devout Jewish friends remind themselves many times each day—every time they pass a Mezuzah (that small holder of these words and the Torah attached to the doors of their houses). If you look by the door to this temple, you will find just such a mezuzah. At one point in my upstate New York journey, I lived right smack in the middle of the Borscht Belt—an area marked with a conglomeration of resorts, camps, and little villages populated every summer by the Jewish families who fled New York City for the peacefulness of the foothills of the NY mountains. By the time I lived there, many of these resorts had fallen on bad times. Mostly they were used for training events and conferences. I remember attending one of these events and walking up and down the halls amazed at the wonderful variety and beauty of these mezuzahs on each door. It was impossible to go in the door to your room without noticing…what a beautiful reminder of our never-changing need to declare who our God is. “ Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.” Jesus knew this commandment well—he was one of the Jewish children who had learned it over time, in the temple, in His home, in the very streets and roads of the lands that he walked as He grew up. And so, when He is asked which commandment is the greatest, Jesus answered, "The first is, 'Hear, O Israel”. Jesus doesn’t stop there, however, He continues: “The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these."
In its Old Testament setting, the command to love God with all your heart, soul, and strength was accompanied by a promise—the promise of long and good lives. In the second instance, there is no such promise attached because Jesus IS the promise—these words are spoken directly to us, the direct heirs of the Old Testament promise made manifest in Jesus Himself. No more need for promises, the promise has arrived.
And Jesus, the embodiment of this promise, shows us again in this second commandment what really matters in His ministry—love and inclusivity. Now we know that most of the time our traditional outreach tends to bring in more folks that look “just like us”. But Jesus calls us to do more. Churches who respond to this call have developed a practice referred to as “radical hospitality”. Reaching beyond those usually sought for church activities, these churches seek people who otherwise would never come in touch with any faith tradition at all. We know that Jesus modeled this for us in His own ministry—a ministry to the most outcast of the earth. How does this fit with these words of Jesus?
Like it or not, Jesus had a way of putting things in context. The first commandment serves as the backdrop to the second. The second commandment which, according to Jesus, is “like the first” is to “love your neighbor as yourself”. Understanding that we find it difficult to understand how to love God and Jesus gives us the answer before we even formulate the question. We love God by loving our neighbor as ourselves. Oh good, we can all go home now…Not so fast…do we even begin to know what that means?
There is an interesting poem entitled “Outwitted” by Edwin Markham written in the early 20th Century. I believe that a few lines may speak to our dilemma here.
He drew a circle that shut me out—…
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
What would it look like if every time someone drew a circle that shut us out of their lives, we lovingly drew a circle that enlarged our view and priorities and re-included the very ones who shut us out? I suspect that most of the time when people draw us as individuals or community out of their circles, it is because we have missed what is most important to them to have IN their circles. When we fail to love others or express our love in ways that they cannot hear, we must acknowledge our need to learn to love anew. Mahatma Gandhi challenged us as we think about living the love of God in the world when he said: “There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” Am I able to accept that for those fundamentally hungry people, that nothing I have to offer them EXCEPT BREAD will do? This is uncommon compassion—granting the priority to the other’s need and setting out to enlarge the circle of what I have to offer to ensure that I can meet the other’s need. This is the love of God, lived in the world—allowing my neighbor to tell me what my ministry and lifework needs to be.
As we enlarge this circle, as we learn to love differently, placing the neighbor’s need as crucial to who we are. And this is, of course, hard—Hear Marge Piercy’s words:
Learning to love differently is hard,
Love with the hands wide open,
Love with the doors banging on their hinges,
The cupboard unlocked…
How do we unlock the cupboards of our hearts and, more importantly, our priorities when it comes to loving our neighbors as ourselves. Uncommon compassion challenges us to redefine who are neighbors are. Uncommon compassion leads us to question how it is that we love? How do we include others in our circle? When Terri and I first started living together (my apologies up front to her for telling this story), I set out to learn those things about her that I would need to know in order to live together well. First of all, I discovered that she is very easy to live with and almost nothing bothers her. However, I also learned that she is, what I thought to be, unusually invested in the state and status of the toothpaste tube; that is, one must always flatten out the tube so that it is ready for the next use. Now I will admit that I was just a teeny bit less committed to that practice than she was. One day, while she was lovingly and quite humorously, I thought, engaging me in yet another conversation about the toothpaste, just to mess with her, I inquired, “Why is it that we can’t compromise on this?” She replied, “We can compromise, you can have your own tube!” It has, of course, become one of “the stories” that we laugh about as it defines who we are in our relationship.
However, while such a story can be funny, the principle of compromise by “each person doing their own thing” is not quite so humorous when applied to the really important things in life and, more importantly, in church. But we do it all the time! Entire denominations and movements were founded on that very principle! I know that I engage in this kind of “get your own toothpaste” thinking when I resist change, when I resist losing those things about our services and ministries that are comfortable for me. I know that I run into others’ “get your own toothpaste” thinking when I suggest change or look for ways to make some of what we do more inviting to those who do not currently feel welcome.
Jesus, on the other hand, would agree with Ghandi, who I quoted a few moments ago. Can we as individuals and as a church, discover what each person is hungry for and appear to them as God? If it is bread, we become filling bread. If it is acceptance, we become unconditional acceptance. If it is belonging, we become a welcoming belonging. Uncommon compassion defined as love and concern that generates acts of welcome and invitation that exceeds what we commonly hold as acceptable will push us as individuals and as a church to experience the radical hospitality that God extends to us and will enable us to open wide the doors of our hearts, souls, and sanctuary to draw a circle around the very persons who shut us out. And so, together we draw our circle larger and larger until every child of God feels welcome in our lives, in our hearts, and in our church.
Amen and Amen.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
"Faith: Building Up Hope, Tearing Down Walls"--sermon preached by Donna Twardowski on October 10, 2010
Luke 17:11-19
The fact that I am standing here today is an example of God’s faith in me, and some constant internal understanding that I continue to grow my faith in God. The road to standing here has been a long one. Trying to find my “purpose” if you will, through other professions and vocations I thought I was supposed to be doing. All the while, in the back of my mind and in the depths of my heart, God knew where I was supposed to be. I suppose on some level I knew that too, but it seemed like an impossible dream.
The lepers in our story for today had an impossible dream as well. In their culture, the Israelites didn’t operate on the germ theory of disease, but they understood something about infectious diseases, and those suspected of leprosy were kept isolated until their disease could be confirmed. They were outcast and labeled unclean. For a Jew to touch a leper, she or he was defiled as much as touching a dead person. In their world view, leprosy was a sign of God’s disfavor. To the rabbis, the cure of a leper was as difficult as raising a person from the dead. In all the history written in the Bible, only two people had been cured of leprosy—Miriam, who had leprosy for seven days as a punishment for speaking against Moses’ leadership (Num 12:9-15), and Naaman, a general of the army of Aram, a heathen from Damascus (2 Kings 5). When Naaman obeyed Elijah’s instruction to wash seven times in the Jordan River, he was healed. The important point about all this is that healing a leper had not been done in Israel for 700 years prior to this parable, and was supposed to indicate the beginning of the Messianic Age (Luke 7:22), that is, when the blind will see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is preached to the poor.
With that as our background, now begins our sermon…..
It was a lonely life living on the edge of the village, dependent upon others for food and clothing, and the colony was fortunate enough to have a barn as shelter from the sun and sand storms. It was even more hurtful being labeled unclean and untouchable when Avisha (Means a gift from God) had no idea why the leprosy had become a part of his being. Feeling pitiful and in need of healing both physically and spiritually, Avisha heard his peers begin to shout, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us.” And Avisha joined his lot and began shouting with them, “”Jesus, Master, have pity on us.” Asking for pity was a daily request; in reality, they were asking for compassion and mercy and anything Jesus could bestow upon them. [As our reading tells us, Jesus gives them more than they ask for.] I wonder when I hear this story, when asking for help, do you have to have even a little amount of faith that your request will be answered?
In response to their pleas, Jesus gives them a direction, “Go show yourselves to the priests.”
Avisha knew the priests according to Jewish law, could declare a person healed of leprosy and fit to re-enter society.
The lepers had gone before to see them and healing hadn’t happened. He didn’t understand why.
This time, however, responding to Jesus, whose fame preceded him, seemed different. There seemed to be a certainty and a power in his voice that was confident it would be a positive outcome.
Luke writes, “As they went, they were made clean.”
It was by doing as Jesus directed, the lepers were healed.
They hadn’t reached the priests yet, and they were healed!
The rabbis hadn’t placed their hands upon them yet, and they were healed!
As they followed directions from Jesus, they were healed!
If they had disbelieved Jesus and laughed at his leadership, they would not have been cured.
They had FAITH and received their healing as a result. Their faith was demonstrated by their actions.
Avisha can’t believe his eyes, his arms are beginning to become softer, his peers’ faces are losing their spots, and they all begin to realize they ARE HEALED! Jumping for joy and running toward the village and the priests, the former lepers keep running…except for Avisha. He falls to his knees and begins weeping.
He weeps because of the realization of a dream, actually the realization of many dreams…
1. that he is healed of his physical condition
2. that he is loved and accepted by Jesus just the way he is; even though he is an
outsider, a Samaritan
3. that his spirit is also healed by God
As he is able, Avisha stands and returns to Jesus. He bows at his feet
and praises God and thanks Jesus for the cure. While he can’t explain to Jesus why the other 9 have not returned to express gratitude, he does understand that his faith has also healed his soul, which is MUCH MUCH more than skin deep.
Troy Perry’s faith, prompted him to begin a new church. 42 years ago this week, yes, for most of us during our lifetimes, Troy Perry had a dream. He however, refused to believe it was impossible. His dream was for a church that would accept all people like him. He had a dream that gay and lesbians, and even gay penecostals , which he was, would be accepted into a worshiping place just as they are, even though others may see them as outsiders.
The first worship service of what would become MCC-Los Angeles, known as the mother church, was held in Troy’s living room and the congregation consisted of one person of color, one Jew and one heterosexual couple. Even on the day of its birth, MCC welcomed everyone! The church has grown so much in so little time. In the grand scheme of things, MCC is less than one tenth the age of the major denominations, and has churches all over the world. In 1996 Troy said what has been the foundation of our denomination and one of my favorite quotes, “Jesus died for our sins, not our sexuality.” That has been the basis for the inclusivity of MCC from the beginning; the integration of our spirituality and sexuality.
The lack of dogma, being told WHAT to believe, has been crucial to the success of MCC as well. It is a Christian church, however an individual’s belief in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, does not have to fit a prescribed teaching, all views are welcome. [Seems to me it would be arrogant to think we understand who God is, what God wants us to believe, and how to worship the creator of it all!] You don’t have to belong to the MCC church or any church to receive the gifts of the table that are ours in communion. Jesus welcomed all to the table and so do we.
What is important at MCC is that while we may have different beliefs, our values are congruent.
What is important at MCC is that our faith supports building up hope and tearing down walls.
What is important is that we tear down all walls of oppression and hate.
MCC was called the “Church with AIDS” in the 1980s. We lost many young men to the disease, many young clergy as well, and those clergy who were not affected or infected, were performing sometimes a dozen funerals in a week. ..Funerals of church members, funerals of friends, and funerals of family. During that time, MCC served as an example of inclusiveness, gentleness, love and holiness.
Now in 2010, MCC continues to be loving and holy. [That’s why we’re here, amen?] A fellow MCC clergy candidate tells the story of a young man with AIDS who died in his city. While this young man was raised in the Roman Catholic denomination, grew up in the church with his family; that church would not bury him.
His frantic parents came to MCC for the final blessing and memorial service for their son. They were not members, and MCC did not ask what they believed. MCC lived its faith of inclusiveness, love, and compassion, demonstrated and taught to us by Jesus Christ and provided what the family needed. MCC was building up hope for these parents, tearing down walls of injustice in the church.
This young man is essentially like the leper. Not welcomed in the city or the faith community; however, joyfully welcomed by Jesus, graciously welcomed by MCC.
MCC faithfully lives out the values of Jesus, recognizing that just as the leper did not choose his disease, we do not choose our race, gender or sexual preference.
MCC demonstrates its faith by loving those who are outcast from other denominations and believing communities; healing the souls damaged by those who say unless you believe or act this way, you cannot attend church here. OR you can come here, but you can’t be clergy, you can’t be married, you can’t hold your partner’s hand here.
MCC expresses its faith by accepting each of us, just the way we are whether we are rich or poor, male, female, transgendered, questioning, or allies, We are accepted whether we are whole or hurting.
I don’t know about you, but for years I faithfully asked God for a place to worship on Sunday morning…A place where I was accepted for who I was because I did not make the choice about the gender of the person I love. I asked for a place to lift me up as the child of God that I knew I was. I asked for a place where my soul could be still and my spirit could be healed by God. Faithfully God answered (though it took God a few decades)…MCC the social justice church…building up hope, tearing down walls, and restoring faith.
I pray the all those feeling deserted, depressed, and in despair, walk through our doors rather than committing suicide.
I pray we may be the example and disciples of Jesus’ love reaching out into a world to counter hate and discrimination of every kind.
I pray all of us are led to create a life that matters to at least one other on the margins.
Most of all, I pray that all those who feel like lepers will walk through our doors and be healed! May it be so.
The fact that I am standing here today is an example of God’s faith in me, and some constant internal understanding that I continue to grow my faith in God. The road to standing here has been a long one. Trying to find my “purpose” if you will, through other professions and vocations I thought I was supposed to be doing. All the while, in the back of my mind and in the depths of my heart, God knew where I was supposed to be. I suppose on some level I knew that too, but it seemed like an impossible dream.
The lepers in our story for today had an impossible dream as well. In their culture, the Israelites didn’t operate on the germ theory of disease, but they understood something about infectious diseases, and those suspected of leprosy were kept isolated until their disease could be confirmed. They were outcast and labeled unclean. For a Jew to touch a leper, she or he was defiled as much as touching a dead person. In their world view, leprosy was a sign of God’s disfavor. To the rabbis, the cure of a leper was as difficult as raising a person from the dead. In all the history written in the Bible, only two people had been cured of leprosy—Miriam, who had leprosy for seven days as a punishment for speaking against Moses’ leadership (Num 12:9-15), and Naaman, a general of the army of Aram, a heathen from Damascus (2 Kings 5). When Naaman obeyed Elijah’s instruction to wash seven times in the Jordan River, he was healed. The important point about all this is that healing a leper had not been done in Israel for 700 years prior to this parable, and was supposed to indicate the beginning of the Messianic Age (Luke 7:22), that is, when the blind will see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is preached to the poor.
With that as our background, now begins our sermon…..
It was a lonely life living on the edge of the village, dependent upon others for food and clothing, and the colony was fortunate enough to have a barn as shelter from the sun and sand storms. It was even more hurtful being labeled unclean and untouchable when Avisha (Means a gift from God) had no idea why the leprosy had become a part of his being. Feeling pitiful and in need of healing both physically and spiritually, Avisha heard his peers begin to shout, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us.” And Avisha joined his lot and began shouting with them, “”Jesus, Master, have pity on us.” Asking for pity was a daily request; in reality, they were asking for compassion and mercy and anything Jesus could bestow upon them. [As our reading tells us, Jesus gives them more than they ask for.] I wonder when I hear this story, when asking for help, do you have to have even a little amount of faith that your request will be answered?
In response to their pleas, Jesus gives them a direction, “Go show yourselves to the priests.”
Avisha knew the priests according to Jewish law, could declare a person healed of leprosy and fit to re-enter society.
The lepers had gone before to see them and healing hadn’t happened. He didn’t understand why.
This time, however, responding to Jesus, whose fame preceded him, seemed different. There seemed to be a certainty and a power in his voice that was confident it would be a positive outcome.
Luke writes, “As they went, they were made clean.”
It was by doing as Jesus directed, the lepers were healed.
They hadn’t reached the priests yet, and they were healed!
The rabbis hadn’t placed their hands upon them yet, and they were healed!
As they followed directions from Jesus, they were healed!
If they had disbelieved Jesus and laughed at his leadership, they would not have been cured.
They had FAITH and received their healing as a result. Their faith was demonstrated by their actions.
Avisha can’t believe his eyes, his arms are beginning to become softer, his peers’ faces are losing their spots, and they all begin to realize they ARE HEALED! Jumping for joy and running toward the village and the priests, the former lepers keep running…except for Avisha. He falls to his knees and begins weeping.
He weeps because of the realization of a dream, actually the realization of many dreams…
1. that he is healed of his physical condition
2. that he is loved and accepted by Jesus just the way he is; even though he is an
outsider, a Samaritan
3. that his spirit is also healed by God
As he is able, Avisha stands and returns to Jesus. He bows at his feet
and praises God and thanks Jesus for the cure. While he can’t explain to Jesus why the other 9 have not returned to express gratitude, he does understand that his faith has also healed his soul, which is MUCH MUCH more than skin deep.
Troy Perry’s faith, prompted him to begin a new church. 42 years ago this week, yes, for most of us during our lifetimes, Troy Perry had a dream. He however, refused to believe it was impossible. His dream was for a church that would accept all people like him. He had a dream that gay and lesbians, and even gay penecostals , which he was, would be accepted into a worshiping place just as they are, even though others may see them as outsiders.
The first worship service of what would become MCC-Los Angeles, known as the mother church, was held in Troy’s living room and the congregation consisted of one person of color, one Jew and one heterosexual couple. Even on the day of its birth, MCC welcomed everyone! The church has grown so much in so little time. In the grand scheme of things, MCC is less than one tenth the age of the major denominations, and has churches all over the world. In 1996 Troy said what has been the foundation of our denomination and one of my favorite quotes, “Jesus died for our sins, not our sexuality.” That has been the basis for the inclusivity of MCC from the beginning; the integration of our spirituality and sexuality.
The lack of dogma, being told WHAT to believe, has been crucial to the success of MCC as well. It is a Christian church, however an individual’s belief in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, does not have to fit a prescribed teaching, all views are welcome. [Seems to me it would be arrogant to think we understand who God is, what God wants us to believe, and how to worship the creator of it all!] You don’t have to belong to the MCC church or any church to receive the gifts of the table that are ours in communion. Jesus welcomed all to the table and so do we.
What is important at MCC is that while we may have different beliefs, our values are congruent.
What is important at MCC is that our faith supports building up hope and tearing down walls.
What is important is that we tear down all walls of oppression and hate.
MCC was called the “Church with AIDS” in the 1980s. We lost many young men to the disease, many young clergy as well, and those clergy who were not affected or infected, were performing sometimes a dozen funerals in a week. ..Funerals of church members, funerals of friends, and funerals of family. During that time, MCC served as an example of inclusiveness, gentleness, love and holiness.
Now in 2010, MCC continues to be loving and holy. [That’s why we’re here, amen?] A fellow MCC clergy candidate tells the story of a young man with AIDS who died in his city. While this young man was raised in the Roman Catholic denomination, grew up in the church with his family; that church would not bury him.
His frantic parents came to MCC for the final blessing and memorial service for their son. They were not members, and MCC did not ask what they believed. MCC lived its faith of inclusiveness, love, and compassion, demonstrated and taught to us by Jesus Christ and provided what the family needed. MCC was building up hope for these parents, tearing down walls of injustice in the church.
This young man is essentially like the leper. Not welcomed in the city or the faith community; however, joyfully welcomed by Jesus, graciously welcomed by MCC.
MCC faithfully lives out the values of Jesus, recognizing that just as the leper did not choose his disease, we do not choose our race, gender or sexual preference.
MCC demonstrates its faith by loving those who are outcast from other denominations and believing communities; healing the souls damaged by those who say unless you believe or act this way, you cannot attend church here. OR you can come here, but you can’t be clergy, you can’t be married, you can’t hold your partner’s hand here.
MCC expresses its faith by accepting each of us, just the way we are whether we are rich or poor, male, female, transgendered, questioning, or allies, We are accepted whether we are whole or hurting.
I don’t know about you, but for years I faithfully asked God for a place to worship on Sunday morning…A place where I was accepted for who I was because I did not make the choice about the gender of the person I love. I asked for a place to lift me up as the child of God that I knew I was. I asked for a place where my soul could be still and my spirit could be healed by God. Faithfully God answered (though it took God a few decades)…MCC the social justice church…building up hope, tearing down walls, and restoring faith.
I pray the all those feeling deserted, depressed, and in despair, walk through our doors rather than committing suicide.
I pray we may be the example and disciples of Jesus’ love reaching out into a world to counter hate and discrimination of every kind.
I pray all of us are led to create a life that matters to at least one other on the margins.
Most of all, I pray that all those who feel like lepers will walk through our doors and be healed! May it be so.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Dancing in the Shadows of Life 10-3-10
Text: A psalm of David.
The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil,
for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
God, we come to you as your people, the sheep of your pasture. We know that you long for us to grasp the fullness of your love. Lead us in your ways of joy and salvation. Amen
There are times when God’s Holy Spirit seems to play little tricks on you. Today is one of those days for me. We are about halfway through our current sermon series on Lessons from Life: Thoughts on the Journey. As I was laying out this sermon series I did not at first attach dates. After I was satisfied with the flow of the sermons, I went back and added the dates. Today turned out to be the day to deal with grief, mourning and celebrating life’s losses. What makes this especially meaningful for me is that today is my mother’s birthday and had she not died a year ago this Tuesday, she would have been 89 today. And so on a day I have dreaded for a year, I am sharing with you about transforming life’s mourning into dancing and I am grateful to God for teaching me so much about mourning AND dancing in these last 12 months.
I will confess to you that it was not an easy transformation and one that will continue to be with me for the rest of my life. We do not ever cease to mourn, but we can allow our mourning to become more than emptiness and grief. And it is a journey, one which I thought I did fairly well in the beginning. I went right back to work, to preaching and singing, and hearing others’ pain poured out to me. And I coped, but not without knowing that something in me had died along with my mother—something that would someday return, but would need a little time. And so in January, when we moved here and began this wonderful journey—I was still in the midst of fairly raw pain. Eventually, the rawness began to fade and life returned to normal, my bouts of grief contained in smaller, completely unpredictable, rivers of tears mostly in the privacy of my car as I drove back and forth to Orlando. And finally, mysteriously, one day, I knew the worst was over—not that I would never grieve the loss of my mother again, but that I had done the necessary work of allowing God to transform those tears of pain into tears of celebration of what my mother had meant to me and to others while on this earth. Notice, however, that I said “done the necessary work of allowing God to transform”. You see, I believe that God stands ready and able to redeem our greatest hurts and losses if we are willing to walk through that process of profound healing and trust. This grief and loss, so integrally a part of life, make up the shadows we must traverse as we go throughout our lives.
I also believe that through the grace of God, two seemingly contradictory things can be true at the same time—I call them “sacred contradictions”. You have heard me speak of these before. And nowhere is this more true than when we are dancing in the shadows of life. How can we rejoice and mourn at the same time, you may ask? Using the guidance of the 23rd Psalm, I have broken down this process into portions of the journey. I hope they are helpful to you.
The first verse of Psalm 23 tells us that God is our shepherd and because of that we want for nothing. God may be mother or father to us, and in the genderless persona of shepherd we understand the truest of a nurturing parent. But what does it mean to have a shepherd? First and foremost, it means that just as a shepherd cares for his or her sheep, God will care for us. Have you ever watched sheep? Kinda like watching a room full of young children. If a sheep or a small child of God is hungry, lonely, scared, they cry; they don’t analyze their feelings to determine if they are acceptable, they just feel them. A tiny child will raise their arms to you, asking to be picked up and never once contemplate whether or not the behavior or need is “appropriate”. And so, the first portion of the journey is to allow yourself to feel what you feel. We get into trouble when we go all “adult” on God, and try to determine what we should be feeling instead of resting in the knowledge that we are who God made us to be, experiencing the feelings that God gave to all human beings. As we celebrate being the creations of God, we must remember to celebrate the full rainbow of feelings and emotions that God so lovingly pours into our hearts. So, I ask you to be kind to yourself when you are grieving and feel what you feel: pain, sorrow, loss or even relief.
The second portion of the journey (and I want to emphasize that these are not sequential portions—they’re just portions—parts of the journey) is to rest. As a shepherd, God makes me lie down in green pastures, as a mother, she leads me beside quiet waters, as a father, he refreshes my soul. This is the cycle of nature that regenerates not only our bodies, but our minds, our hearts, and our souls. As we talked about last week, we rarely, if every take advantage of this sacred gift of rest. When we are in the midst of grieving, rest is not optional. There is no other time in our lives when allowing our bodies to turn off, go into sleep mode is more important. If I leave my computer on for too long, the screen tells me that it is going into sleep mode. Our bodies have that same switch and yet, rarely, do we allow ourselves the luxury of resting. In fact, I believe that we will stay stuck in our grief, unable to move beyond loss to joy if we do not allow God to make us over in the blessed moments of true rest. When we are sick or injured, doctors encourage us to rest and sleep. Why, because our bodies heal twice as fast when we’re sleeping as when we are awake. The same is true for our hearts and minds. Think about it!
Thirdly, involve other people. The 23rd Psalm says that we know that even when we walk through the darkest of valleys we will not fear because the shepherd is with us—the protection of the shepherd guards our steps. As I thought about this more and more it came to me that as Christians we believe that we are the body of Christ and so it is by reaching out to the true and full body of Christ that we find our greatest comfort and protection in our vulnerable times. I learned that most people have no idea what to say, but they are more than willing to lend an ear or a shoulder. I can almost envision God walking on either side of me when I am surrounded by those who love me and love God. What great comfort comes from allowing those who love us to be “there” in our darkest nights.
The fourth portion relates to staying open to the blessings of God even in the midst of grief and loss. Too often we shut ourselves off to the possibility that God will prepare at table for us or anoint our heads with oil. The anointing with oil has long been a way that God’s people bless each other. We must only give God a chance and give joy a chance to overflow our cups with blessings in the midst of it all. While working with abused children, I have seen many a child when taken from their families of origin, shut themselves off, build huge, strong walls of bricks and mortar to shield themselves from the love of those trying to care for them. And some of the saints of this world, also known as foster parents, must faithfully and lovingly chisel away at the hardness until that little tiny heart begins to let someone touch it. Do we not indeed do the same thing when our God reaches out to love us even in our greatest hurt?
Finally, be willing to dance. When the time is right, let the relief of the passing of the worst of the grief wash over you. And then we can say with the psalmist, “Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell and dance in the house of the LORD forever. And so my friends, especially those of you who grieve today, recent losses or losses far away, let the great shepherd, even if just for a moment, tend you like a wounded child, protect you like a wandering and lost sheep, and, finally, take you by the hand and lead you to the great celestial dance of life. Happy birthday, mother. Amen and amen!
The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil,
for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
God, we come to you as your people, the sheep of your pasture. We know that you long for us to grasp the fullness of your love. Lead us in your ways of joy and salvation. Amen
There are times when God’s Holy Spirit seems to play little tricks on you. Today is one of those days for me. We are about halfway through our current sermon series on Lessons from Life: Thoughts on the Journey. As I was laying out this sermon series I did not at first attach dates. After I was satisfied with the flow of the sermons, I went back and added the dates. Today turned out to be the day to deal with grief, mourning and celebrating life’s losses. What makes this especially meaningful for me is that today is my mother’s birthday and had she not died a year ago this Tuesday, she would have been 89 today. And so on a day I have dreaded for a year, I am sharing with you about transforming life’s mourning into dancing and I am grateful to God for teaching me so much about mourning AND dancing in these last 12 months.
I will confess to you that it was not an easy transformation and one that will continue to be with me for the rest of my life. We do not ever cease to mourn, but we can allow our mourning to become more than emptiness and grief. And it is a journey, one which I thought I did fairly well in the beginning. I went right back to work, to preaching and singing, and hearing others’ pain poured out to me. And I coped, but not without knowing that something in me had died along with my mother—something that would someday return, but would need a little time. And so in January, when we moved here and began this wonderful journey—I was still in the midst of fairly raw pain. Eventually, the rawness began to fade and life returned to normal, my bouts of grief contained in smaller, completely unpredictable, rivers of tears mostly in the privacy of my car as I drove back and forth to Orlando. And finally, mysteriously, one day, I knew the worst was over—not that I would never grieve the loss of my mother again, but that I had done the necessary work of allowing God to transform those tears of pain into tears of celebration of what my mother had meant to me and to others while on this earth. Notice, however, that I said “done the necessary work of allowing God to transform”. You see, I believe that God stands ready and able to redeem our greatest hurts and losses if we are willing to walk through that process of profound healing and trust. This grief and loss, so integrally a part of life, make up the shadows we must traverse as we go throughout our lives.
I also believe that through the grace of God, two seemingly contradictory things can be true at the same time—I call them “sacred contradictions”. You have heard me speak of these before. And nowhere is this more true than when we are dancing in the shadows of life. How can we rejoice and mourn at the same time, you may ask? Using the guidance of the 23rd Psalm, I have broken down this process into portions of the journey. I hope they are helpful to you.
The first verse of Psalm 23 tells us that God is our shepherd and because of that we want for nothing. God may be mother or father to us, and in the genderless persona of shepherd we understand the truest of a nurturing parent. But what does it mean to have a shepherd? First and foremost, it means that just as a shepherd cares for his or her sheep, God will care for us. Have you ever watched sheep? Kinda like watching a room full of young children. If a sheep or a small child of God is hungry, lonely, scared, they cry; they don’t analyze their feelings to determine if they are acceptable, they just feel them. A tiny child will raise their arms to you, asking to be picked up and never once contemplate whether or not the behavior or need is “appropriate”. And so, the first portion of the journey is to allow yourself to feel what you feel. We get into trouble when we go all “adult” on God, and try to determine what we should be feeling instead of resting in the knowledge that we are who God made us to be, experiencing the feelings that God gave to all human beings. As we celebrate being the creations of God, we must remember to celebrate the full rainbow of feelings and emotions that God so lovingly pours into our hearts. So, I ask you to be kind to yourself when you are grieving and feel what you feel: pain, sorrow, loss or even relief.
The second portion of the journey (and I want to emphasize that these are not sequential portions—they’re just portions—parts of the journey) is to rest. As a shepherd, God makes me lie down in green pastures, as a mother, she leads me beside quiet waters, as a father, he refreshes my soul. This is the cycle of nature that regenerates not only our bodies, but our minds, our hearts, and our souls. As we talked about last week, we rarely, if every take advantage of this sacred gift of rest. When we are in the midst of grieving, rest is not optional. There is no other time in our lives when allowing our bodies to turn off, go into sleep mode is more important. If I leave my computer on for too long, the screen tells me that it is going into sleep mode. Our bodies have that same switch and yet, rarely, do we allow ourselves the luxury of resting. In fact, I believe that we will stay stuck in our grief, unable to move beyond loss to joy if we do not allow God to make us over in the blessed moments of true rest. When we are sick or injured, doctors encourage us to rest and sleep. Why, because our bodies heal twice as fast when we’re sleeping as when we are awake. The same is true for our hearts and minds. Think about it!
Thirdly, involve other people. The 23rd Psalm says that we know that even when we walk through the darkest of valleys we will not fear because the shepherd is with us—the protection of the shepherd guards our steps. As I thought about this more and more it came to me that as Christians we believe that we are the body of Christ and so it is by reaching out to the true and full body of Christ that we find our greatest comfort and protection in our vulnerable times. I learned that most people have no idea what to say, but they are more than willing to lend an ear or a shoulder. I can almost envision God walking on either side of me when I am surrounded by those who love me and love God. What great comfort comes from allowing those who love us to be “there” in our darkest nights.
The fourth portion relates to staying open to the blessings of God even in the midst of grief and loss. Too often we shut ourselves off to the possibility that God will prepare at table for us or anoint our heads with oil. The anointing with oil has long been a way that God’s people bless each other. We must only give God a chance and give joy a chance to overflow our cups with blessings in the midst of it all. While working with abused children, I have seen many a child when taken from their families of origin, shut themselves off, build huge, strong walls of bricks and mortar to shield themselves from the love of those trying to care for them. And some of the saints of this world, also known as foster parents, must faithfully and lovingly chisel away at the hardness until that little tiny heart begins to let someone touch it. Do we not indeed do the same thing when our God reaches out to love us even in our greatest hurt?
Finally, be willing to dance. When the time is right, let the relief of the passing of the worst of the grief wash over you. And then we can say with the psalmist, “Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell and dance in the house of the LORD forever. And so my friends, especially those of you who grieve today, recent losses or losses far away, let the great shepherd, even if just for a moment, tend you like a wounded child, protect you like a wandering and lost sheep, and, finally, take you by the hand and lead you to the great celestial dance of life. Happy birthday, mother. Amen and amen!
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