THE READINGS (The Message)
FIRST READING—Exodus 3: 1-15
Moses was shepherding the flock of Jethro, his father-in-law, the priest of Midian. He led the flock to the west end of the wilderness and came to the mountain of God, Horeb. The angel of GOD appeared to him in flames of fire blazing out of the middle of a bush. He looked. The bush was blazing away but it didn't burn up. Moses said, "What's going on here? I can't believe this! Amazing! Why doesn't the bush burn up?" GOD saw that he had stopped to look. God called to him from out of the bush, "Moses! Moses!" He said, "Yes? I'm right here!" God said, "Don't come any closer. Remove your sandals from your feet. You're standing on holy ground." Then he said, "I am the God of your father and mother: The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob."
Moses hid his face, afraid to look at God. GOD said, "I've taken a good, long look at the affliction of my people in Egypt. I've heard their cries for deliverance from their slave masters; I know all about their pain. And now I have come down to help them, pry them loose from the grip of Egypt, get them out of that country and bring them to a good land with wide-open spaces, a land lush with milk and honey, the land of the Canaanite, the Hittite, the Amorite, the Perizzite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite. "The Israelite cry for help has come to me, and I've seen for myself how cruelly they're being treated by the Egyptians. It's time for you to go back: I'm sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the People of Israel, out of Egypt."
Moses answered God, "But why me? What makes you think that I could ever go to Pharaoh and lead the children of Israel out of Egypt?" "I'll be with you," God said. "And this will be the proof that I am the one who sent you: When you have brought my people out of Egypt, you will worship God right here at this very mountain." Then Moses said to God, "Suppose I go to the People of Israel and I tell them, 'The God of your fathers and mothers sent me to you'; and they ask me, 'What is this God’s name?' What do I tell them?" God said to Moses, "I-AM-WHO-I-AM. Tell the People of Israel, 'I-AM sent me to you.'" God continued with Moses: "This is what you're to say to the Israelites: 'GOD, the God of your fathers and mothers, the God of Abraham and Sarah, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob sent me to you.' This has always been my name, and this is how I always will be known.
SECOND READING—Matthew 16: 21-26
Then Jesus made it clear to his disciples that it was now necessary for him to go to Jerusalem, submit to an ordeal of suffering at the hands of the religious leaders, be killed, and then on the third day be raised up alive. Peter took him in hand, protesting, "Impossible, Master! That can never be!" But Jesus didn't swerve. "Peter, get out of my way. Satan, get lost. You have no idea how God works." Then Jesus went to work on his disciples. "Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am.
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God, You speak to us in small, still voices and in loud rolling thunder. Keep us ever on the lookout for Your words to us. Bless us this day with understanding and promise. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to You, O God. Amen
If you were born in the 30’s, 40’s or 50’s, your image of Moses may well have been greatly influenced by the huge epic film, The Ten Commandments. Cecil B. DeMille had a way with drama and, for his time, a way with special effects. So, for many of us, when we think, Moses, we think Charlton Heston—arms outstretched, ponderous words, and bravery beyond belief. If you’ve never seen the film, rent it or watch it on YouTube in 20-something different parts or just wait until next Easter weekend when, for some weird reason, it is always shown.
But our story today features a Moses before the eloquent speeches to Pharaoh (aka Yul Brynner) and the parting of the seas. This Moses looked nothing like Charlton Heston. This Moses looked a whole lot more like one of us out for a walk in the field. We all have our stories just as Moses has his; so, who is this “wandering in the field” Moses? Moses, you may remember, was born during the time when the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt. Pharaoh makes a decree that all male Hebrew infants are to be drowned at birth so that the Hebrew people cannot become strong and fight back. His mother, desperate to save him, puts him in a basket and floats him in the Nile. In a story that is probably one of the favorite Sunday School stories of all time, the child is found by Pharaoh’s daughter. Moses’ sister has been watching over him from afar and when Pharaoh’s daughter finds Moses, his sister offers to find her a wet-nurse. In a wonderful triumph of good over evil, Moses’ own mother is brought to the palace to care for her own child. He, having been adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter is raised as an Egyptian prince.
Jewish scripture records only three other things about Moses before our story. As a young man, Moses sees an Egyptian overseer beating a Jewish slave. Moses, enraged, kills the overseer. The next day, he intercedes in a fight between two Hebrew men who are fighting. The one who started the fight says to Moses, “Oh, so now you will kill me just as you killed that overseer!” Moses immediately understands that his first violent act has been observed and he knows he is in danger. In fact, as word reaches Pharaoh of Moses’ deed, he orders him killed. Moses flees to Midian. With no rest for the weary Moses, he rather quickly walks into another situation that he cannot ignore. The daughters of a Midianite priest, Jethro, are being abused by the Midianite male shepherds, and Moses in yet another defense of the persecuted, rises to their defense. Moses, in every incident, champions the victims of injustice. Shortly after the last event, he marries one of Jethro’s daughters and takes up his place as a shepherd of his father-in-law’s flocks. Here is where our story picks up.
So here we are, back with Moses, out in the field. Now, you’ve got to imagine that it isn’t very exciting shepherding sheep, sheep being the rather slow, dull creatures that they are. I can see Moses walking along, lost in his thoughts, trying to stay awake in the hot sun. All of a sudden, there it is—a bush burning—but not burning up. Shaking his head, trying to get a grasp on reality, Moses looks again. “What’s going on here?” A fairly predictable question, I would say. God, noticing that Moses has stopped to look, calls to him: “Moses, Moses!” He said, "Yes? I'm right here!" God said, "Don't come any closer. Remove your sandals from your feet. You're standing on holy ground." Then he said, "I am the God of your father and mother: The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob."
Moses was afraid to look at God so he hid his face. Can you see him, face down, no shoes, completely un-nerved by God’s appearance? And then, GOD said, "I know what is going on in Egypt and I’ve seen the pain the Hebrew people are suffering. I’m here to bring them deliverance and transport all of them to a wonderful place, flowing with milk and honey. You, Moses, are the person who is going to make all this happen. You will go back and bring my people out of there.” Now we might assume, at this point, that Moses wonders if he has spent too much time in the sun. The urge to put his sandals back on and run as fast as he can must have been pretty strong. Certainly, all kinds of thoughts of escape from this task must have been crashing though his mind. For some reason, Moses stays. Not that he jumps up and starts making plans to return to Egypt. Oh, no, Moses, in a whine that doesn’t seem very Heston-like says, "But why me? What makes you think that I could ever go to Pharaoh and lead the children of Israel out of Egypt?"
Not deterred for a moment, God says, "I'll be with you," God said. "And this will be the proof that I am the one who sent you: When you have brought my people out of Egypt, you will worship God right here at this very mountain." It didn’t take Moses long to figure out that this was proof only after the fact and that didn’t satisfy him one bit. He moans, "Suppose I go to the People of Israel and I tell them, 'The God of your fathers and mothers sent me to you'; and they ask me, 'What is this God’s name?' What do I tell them?" God, not letting Moses get away with his excuses, said, "I-AM-WHO-I-AM. Tell the People of Israel, 'I-AM sent me to you.'" God continued with Moses: "This has always been my name, and this is how I always will be known.” Not a very satisfying answer, but an honest one—one which forces us to ponder the vastness and completeness, and, in some ways, indescribability of this God, now speaking directly to Moses and to us. Moses, though is still not convinced. Barely taking a breath to absorb all that God is revealing to him, Moses, not unlike some of us, continues his litany of excuses.
"O, God, I have never been a good speaker—not in the past and certainly not now. I am a slow talker and my tongue doesn’t always work right.” Moses, thinking he has the best excuse now, tries to convince God that he is not worthy or talented enough for the task at hand. Now, the problem with this approach is, not only is it very unattractive, it is a lie. We already know that Moses is educated, having been rescued from certain death by Pharaoh’s daughter and he certainly had no problem speaking up to now. God, particularly unpleased with this line of argument, basically tells Moses to, well, “shut up” and reminds him that God will be doing the talking through him. Moses, not to be convinced finally cries, “God, please, send someone else.” And in a not very brotherly act, offers up his own brother, Aaron, who Moses claims is a mighty orator, to do the deed. God, however, has made the choice and Moses is it, despite his distinct lack of enthusiasm for the job.
Ok, let’s stop here and rest for a moment. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. This standing on holy ground is a lot harder than it looks and I would really like to put my metaphorical shoes back on. But I won’t. Because I’ve got to think that by now, the point of this story is starting to make itself clear. And, in case you have zoned out like Moses in the hot sun, this story is not just about Moses. It is a story about each one of us. It is the story of how we experience the Divine Presence in our lives. It is the story how each of us stand in front of God when we are called. Our burning bush may look nothing like the one in front of Moses; but if we are open and ready, we will receive such a moment that requires us to take off our shoes. Why am I so sure? I am sure because God loves us and blesses us with the awareness of our very Creator; and, when we will listen, with a sense of calling for our lives. Just as importantly, God needs us—all of us—slow of speech or slow of step, stubborn or shy, whiny or brave, to do the work of justice. This, then, is the story of Moses—God using an ordinary, unwilling, unmotivated sort of a man or woman to bring about the work of the Creator. And this is our story as well. I invite us to embrace it. I invite us to stand barefoot in the presence of God and say “yes”.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning has a simple little poem that speaks to us this day, if only we will listen:
"Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries..."
Let us be the ones who know to take off our shoes. Let us be the ones to finally say, “Here we are!” Amen and amen.
Welcome!
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Complete and Free Access 8-21-11
THE READINGS (The Message)
FIRST READING— Isaiah 51: 1-6
"Listen to me, all you who are serious about right living and committed to seeking God. Ponder the rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were dug. Yes, ponder Abraham, your father, and Sarah, who bore you. Think of it! One solitary man when I called him, but once I blessed him, he multiplied. Likewise I, God, will comfort Zion, comfort all her mounds of ruins. I'll transform her dead ground into Eden, her moonscape into the garden of God,
A place filled with exuberance and laughter, thankful voices and melodic songs.
“Pay attention, my people. Listen to me, nations. Revelation flows from me. My decisions light up the world. My deliverance arrives on the run, my salvation right on time. I'll bring justice to the peoples. Even faraway islands will look to me and take hope in my saving power. Look up at the skies, ponder the earth under your feet. The skies will fade out like smoke, the earth will wear out like work pants, and the people will die off like flies. But my salvation will last forever, my setting-things-right will never be obsolete.
SECOND READING—Matthew 16: 13-20
When Jesus arrived in the villages of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "What are people saying about who the [One sent from God] is?" They replied, "Some think he is John the Baptizer, some say Elijah, some Jeremiah or one of the other prophets." He pressed them, "And how about you? Who do you say I am?" Simon Peter said, "You're the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Jesus came back, "God bless you, Simon, son of Jonah! You didn't get that answer out of books or from teachers. My [Holy Parent] in heaven, God, let you in on this secret of who I really am. And now I'm going to tell you who you are, really are. You are Peter, a rock. This is the rock on which I will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out. "And that's not all. You will have complete and free access to God's kingdom, keys to open any and every door: no more barriers between heaven and earth, earth and heaven. A yes on earth is yes in heaven. A no on earth is no in heaven."
He swore the disciples to secrecy. He made them promise they would tell no one that he was the Messiah.
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God of many names, bless us this day as we gather in Your presence to hear what You would say to us this day. God, use my voice and the thoughts of our hearts to bring Your blessings into this place, today and always. Amen
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Have you ever played that game at a party or the beginning of a meeting called Two Truths and a Lie? It goes like this—you write down three things about yourself—two of them are true and one is completely made up. Then everyone has to guess which one is the lie. Now the crazier your life experiences have been, the better chance you have at fooling everybody. I, for some reason or another, am really good at this game—just saying…
We spend a lot of time in our lives, perhaps more so when we are young, but maybe not, wondering who people say that we are—are we good at what we do? Are we next in line for that promotion? Are we meeting our boss’ expectation? Our partner’s, our kids’ or our parents’? What do people think about us? It makes sense to us that Jesus would ask the question that he asks today. We have asked it many times ourselves.
Of course, this question about Jesus is different for everyone. While this is not a place where you will be told what you have to believe or what you should believe, we do spend quite a lot of time in this place we call church talking about who Jesus is. For some of you, we spend too much time, for some, not nearly enough. But I want to suggest that however, you go about thinking about the question, it is a question worth asking with an answer worth pondering. And the way you answer that question may well suggest quite a lot about the other question as well. You know, that “Who am I?” question.
Our story today recites no theological treatise from Jesus, no lengthy sermon. This exchange between leader and disciples is a cut and dried, let’s get to the bottom of things discussion. Today, Jesus himself calls us to look at who he was to his disciples and who he is in our lives today. And in a very interesting story, Jesus wants to know what the disciples think.
Although there was no Facebook, no YouTube, and no easy way for the deeds of this Jesus to “go viral”, still his preaching and teaching and miracles were being spoken of far and wide throughout the countryside. He and the disciples have just arrived in Caesarea Philippi. He’s being gossiped about and we can safely assume that Jesus wants to know what the people are saying. So he asks the folks who would know—“who do people say that I am? What are they really saying?” The disciples respond in what seems to be almost nonsensical answers—“well some say John the Baptist”—a little hard to pull off unless you believe that Jesus, who was previously baptized by John, somehow became the reincarnation of John once John was beheaded. Then other disciples suggest—“well, some say you are Elijah”. This answer makes more sense since the Jewish people believed that the prophet Elijah would come back to earth to announce the coming of the true Messiah. Nevertheless, it does not jive at all with what Jesus is saying about himself—seems like confusion permeates the gossip.
Jesus, observing how befuddled everyone seems to be, tries again—“who do you, my disciples, the ones who have been going through all these things with me, say that I am?” Now this I understand—I would always want to know what those who are closest to me think; and, after all, if the disciples don’t get it, how could anyone else even come close. A disciple named Simon steps right up and answers: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” We don’t know what Jesus expected this disciple to say, but an interesting thing happens after his statement. Jesus responds to Simon: "God bless you, Simon, son of Jonah! You didn’t give me just any answer or try to make one up. You listened to God who told you who I am. And I’m going to tell you who you really are. I’m going to change your name to Peter, which means ‘rock’ and this is the rock on which I will build a community—a community so vast and energetic that nothing can stop it. Not only that, you will have complete and free access to God's kingdom, keys to open any and every door: There are no more barriers between heaven and earth—nothing to separate this community from God.”
Wow! I’m just guessing that if the other disciples had known what the reward was for the correct answer they might have tried a little harder, listened a little better, or prayed a little longer for the answer Jesus sought. That, I think, would have missed the point. Immediately after Jesus gives this blessing to the disciple now called ‘Peter’, he tells all the disciples not to tell anyone that he is the Messiah.
This is hard for us to figure out—I know it is for me. Why wouldn’t Jesus want the disciples to go back out into the countryside and try to straighten out all these misinformed, misguided folks? Some very well known scholars argue that it is because Jesus was not ready to deal with the authorities yet and that may be the case. However, if we look closely at Jesus’ response to Peter, we see a larger truth—that only God could reveal who Jesus was to the world and only when each person was ready. Peter was ready and Jesus gives him the keys to eternal life, giving him complete and free access to the goodness and abundance of God’s kingdom.
What does this say about our own journeys with Jesus? I believe, most of all that it says that we must answer Jesus’ question for ourselves. It doesn’t work for anyone other than God to tell us who Jesus is to us. Preachers can’t and shouldn’t dictate and theologians can only tell us what others have thought along the way. This is a profoundly personal journey—one well worth the taking—one which results in complete and free access to God’s exceeding abundance. Take one more look at Simon-now-Peter’s experience. All the others tell Jesus what other people are saying—Peter has done the work for himself, listened to God’s voice and determined that Jesus is, in fact, the long-awaited Messiah.
So, it is not enough for us to talk about who others say Jesus is. We will find ourselves in a “heap of trouble” when we muddle through all the various thoughts about this Jesus—this will lead us to many definitions and descriptions, but little or no experience of the life altering-name-changing encounter with Jesus of Nazareth. God loves us so much that we are allowed to work out our own understanding of Jesus as we come to experience what his teachings and presence means in our own unique ways. Jesus did not ask Peter: “Who do you think I ought to be in your life? Or how should you describe who I am? Jesus asked then and asks now: “Who do you say that I am?”
Peter had walked with Jesus, had seen the healing, the changes of heart, the conversion, if you will, of people who formerly cared only about themselves to people who cared about the community. So, Peter was ready—ready to make his own decision about who Jesus was. This is not a sermon that will end with an answer, it is a sermon that will end in a question—one important enough for us to spend some truly important time in our quiet places and in our together places—some time in studying and learning about this Jesus. You may come to the end of that time and decide that He was a great teacher or the good shepherd. Or, you may come to the place of seeing that Jesus was, first and foremost, a child of God just like us—but a child of God who cared so deeply about all the other children of God that he was willing to be a living sacrifice so that we could know what it was to be loved. Wherever you arrive, I invite you to hear what really mattered to Jesus in Simon Peter’s answer. He says this: “You didn’t give me just any answer or try to make one up. You listened to God who told you who I am.” This, then is our calling—to stay away from the easy answer or, worse yet, just making one up. The call is that we listen to God and that we be in fellowship with the children of God—that we be open to the moving of the Holy Spirit among and within us. Then, and then only can we truly hear the question: “Who do you, each and every one of you, say that I am?” Amen and amen
FIRST READING— Isaiah 51: 1-6
"Listen to me, all you who are serious about right living and committed to seeking God. Ponder the rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were dug. Yes, ponder Abraham, your father, and Sarah, who bore you. Think of it! One solitary man when I called him, but once I blessed him, he multiplied. Likewise I, God, will comfort Zion, comfort all her mounds of ruins. I'll transform her dead ground into Eden, her moonscape into the garden of God,
A place filled with exuberance and laughter, thankful voices and melodic songs.
“Pay attention, my people. Listen to me, nations. Revelation flows from me. My decisions light up the world. My deliverance arrives on the run, my salvation right on time. I'll bring justice to the peoples. Even faraway islands will look to me and take hope in my saving power. Look up at the skies, ponder the earth under your feet. The skies will fade out like smoke, the earth will wear out like work pants, and the people will die off like flies. But my salvation will last forever, my setting-things-right will never be obsolete.
SECOND READING—Matthew 16: 13-20
When Jesus arrived in the villages of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "What are people saying about who the [One sent from God] is?" They replied, "Some think he is John the Baptizer, some say Elijah, some Jeremiah or one of the other prophets." He pressed them, "And how about you? Who do you say I am?" Simon Peter said, "You're the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Jesus came back, "God bless you, Simon, son of Jonah! You didn't get that answer out of books or from teachers. My [Holy Parent] in heaven, God, let you in on this secret of who I really am. And now I'm going to tell you who you are, really are. You are Peter, a rock. This is the rock on which I will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out. "And that's not all. You will have complete and free access to God's kingdom, keys to open any and every door: no more barriers between heaven and earth, earth and heaven. A yes on earth is yes in heaven. A no on earth is no in heaven."
He swore the disciples to secrecy. He made them promise they would tell no one that he was the Messiah.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God of many names, bless us this day as we gather in Your presence to hear what You would say to us this day. God, use my voice and the thoughts of our hearts to bring Your blessings into this place, today and always. Amen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Have you ever played that game at a party or the beginning of a meeting called Two Truths and a Lie? It goes like this—you write down three things about yourself—two of them are true and one is completely made up. Then everyone has to guess which one is the lie. Now the crazier your life experiences have been, the better chance you have at fooling everybody. I, for some reason or another, am really good at this game—just saying…
We spend a lot of time in our lives, perhaps more so when we are young, but maybe not, wondering who people say that we are—are we good at what we do? Are we next in line for that promotion? Are we meeting our boss’ expectation? Our partner’s, our kids’ or our parents’? What do people think about us? It makes sense to us that Jesus would ask the question that he asks today. We have asked it many times ourselves.
Of course, this question about Jesus is different for everyone. While this is not a place where you will be told what you have to believe or what you should believe, we do spend quite a lot of time in this place we call church talking about who Jesus is. For some of you, we spend too much time, for some, not nearly enough. But I want to suggest that however, you go about thinking about the question, it is a question worth asking with an answer worth pondering. And the way you answer that question may well suggest quite a lot about the other question as well. You know, that “Who am I?” question.
Our story today recites no theological treatise from Jesus, no lengthy sermon. This exchange between leader and disciples is a cut and dried, let’s get to the bottom of things discussion. Today, Jesus himself calls us to look at who he was to his disciples and who he is in our lives today. And in a very interesting story, Jesus wants to know what the disciples think.
Although there was no Facebook, no YouTube, and no easy way for the deeds of this Jesus to “go viral”, still his preaching and teaching and miracles were being spoken of far and wide throughout the countryside. He and the disciples have just arrived in Caesarea Philippi. He’s being gossiped about and we can safely assume that Jesus wants to know what the people are saying. So he asks the folks who would know—“who do people say that I am? What are they really saying?” The disciples respond in what seems to be almost nonsensical answers—“well some say John the Baptist”—a little hard to pull off unless you believe that Jesus, who was previously baptized by John, somehow became the reincarnation of John once John was beheaded. Then other disciples suggest—“well, some say you are Elijah”. This answer makes more sense since the Jewish people believed that the prophet Elijah would come back to earth to announce the coming of the true Messiah. Nevertheless, it does not jive at all with what Jesus is saying about himself—seems like confusion permeates the gossip.
Jesus, observing how befuddled everyone seems to be, tries again—“who do you, my disciples, the ones who have been going through all these things with me, say that I am?” Now this I understand—I would always want to know what those who are closest to me think; and, after all, if the disciples don’t get it, how could anyone else even come close. A disciple named Simon steps right up and answers: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” We don’t know what Jesus expected this disciple to say, but an interesting thing happens after his statement. Jesus responds to Simon: "God bless you, Simon, son of Jonah! You didn’t give me just any answer or try to make one up. You listened to God who told you who I am. And I’m going to tell you who you really are. I’m going to change your name to Peter, which means ‘rock’ and this is the rock on which I will build a community—a community so vast and energetic that nothing can stop it. Not only that, you will have complete and free access to God's kingdom, keys to open any and every door: There are no more barriers between heaven and earth—nothing to separate this community from God.”
Wow! I’m just guessing that if the other disciples had known what the reward was for the correct answer they might have tried a little harder, listened a little better, or prayed a little longer for the answer Jesus sought. That, I think, would have missed the point. Immediately after Jesus gives this blessing to the disciple now called ‘Peter’, he tells all the disciples not to tell anyone that he is the Messiah.
This is hard for us to figure out—I know it is for me. Why wouldn’t Jesus want the disciples to go back out into the countryside and try to straighten out all these misinformed, misguided folks? Some very well known scholars argue that it is because Jesus was not ready to deal with the authorities yet and that may be the case. However, if we look closely at Jesus’ response to Peter, we see a larger truth—that only God could reveal who Jesus was to the world and only when each person was ready. Peter was ready and Jesus gives him the keys to eternal life, giving him complete and free access to the goodness and abundance of God’s kingdom.
What does this say about our own journeys with Jesus? I believe, most of all that it says that we must answer Jesus’ question for ourselves. It doesn’t work for anyone other than God to tell us who Jesus is to us. Preachers can’t and shouldn’t dictate and theologians can only tell us what others have thought along the way. This is a profoundly personal journey—one well worth the taking—one which results in complete and free access to God’s exceeding abundance. Take one more look at Simon-now-Peter’s experience. All the others tell Jesus what other people are saying—Peter has done the work for himself, listened to God’s voice and determined that Jesus is, in fact, the long-awaited Messiah.
So, it is not enough for us to talk about who others say Jesus is. We will find ourselves in a “heap of trouble” when we muddle through all the various thoughts about this Jesus—this will lead us to many definitions and descriptions, but little or no experience of the life altering-name-changing encounter with Jesus of Nazareth. God loves us so much that we are allowed to work out our own understanding of Jesus as we come to experience what his teachings and presence means in our own unique ways. Jesus did not ask Peter: “Who do you think I ought to be in your life? Or how should you describe who I am? Jesus asked then and asks now: “Who do you say that I am?”
Peter had walked with Jesus, had seen the healing, the changes of heart, the conversion, if you will, of people who formerly cared only about themselves to people who cared about the community. So, Peter was ready—ready to make his own decision about who Jesus was. This is not a sermon that will end with an answer, it is a sermon that will end in a question—one important enough for us to spend some truly important time in our quiet places and in our together places—some time in studying and learning about this Jesus. You may come to the end of that time and decide that He was a great teacher or the good shepherd. Or, you may come to the place of seeing that Jesus was, first and foremost, a child of God just like us—but a child of God who cared so deeply about all the other children of God that he was willing to be a living sacrifice so that we could know what it was to be loved. Wherever you arrive, I invite you to hear what really mattered to Jesus in Simon Peter’s answer. He says this: “You didn’t give me just any answer or try to make one up. You listened to God who told you who I am.” This, then is our calling—to stay away from the easy answer or, worse yet, just making one up. The call is that we listen to God and that we be in fellowship with the children of God—that we be open to the moving of the Holy Spirit among and within us. Then, and then only can we truly hear the question: “Who do you, each and every one of you, say that I am?” Amen and amen
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Welcome to the Table-The Path of Responsibility 8-14-11
THE READINGS (TNIV)
First Reading: 2 Corinthians 5: 17-20.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to [the Creator] in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And [God] has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making [the divine] appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.
Gospel Reading: Luke 22: 24-30
A dispute also arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. Jesus said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. You are those who have stood by me in my trials. And I confer on you a kingdom, just as [God, my parent] conferred one on me, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God of heaven and earth, we ask You to walk beside us on our journey this and every day. We thank You for leading us deeper and deeper into a life blessed by You. We seek Your guidance today. May my words about the journey and all the mediations of our hearts be pleasing to you, O God, our creator. Amen.
I started this sermon over four times. Now I have shared with you before that I have come to know that God is not in the business of making easy revelations and that I am honored when the Spirit causes me to wrestle with God over the texts—to struggle with them—to bring them to life in such a way that they are meaningful in our hearing and, most of all, in our living. And this week brought struggle and even some frustration as I carried with me our texts throughout the week and pondered what God was going to say to us on this day. Sometimes, the process makes itself clear, other times I feel as if what God is trying to say is just beyond my grasp, until, all at once, it becomes clear. Perhaps life itself is much like that—it remains somewhat confusing until it, well, isn’t. And so, this week, I spent extra time reflecting on these scriptures and our 4-week journey and I trust that God will use my words to bring this sermon series on the experience of Holy Communion to a close in a manner that allows us to honor and incorporate what we have garnered along the way into an ever-increasingly meaningful celebration of coming to the Table in this community in this time.
Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians does what Paul does best—he calls the people to come to an understanding of the grace they have been given. Listen: “… if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” And lest we be confused about who should get the credit for this, Paul states, “ All this is from God, who reconciled us through Christ “. But, wait, God isn’t done with us, God “gave us the ministry of reconciliation”. In our week of study regarding “right relationship” we took a brief look at reconciliation—that notion that we are made right with God through the life and sacrifice of Christ Jesus. And here we are, being given the ministry of reconciliation by this same God. It is not enough to merely experience our own reconciliation, we must spread the ministry beyond our own isolated experience. Our Gospel passage relates here.
In a rather somewhat strange, though sadly predictable chain of events, the disciples are having a discussion just after they participate with Jesus in the celebration of passing the cup and bread in remembrance of his life and coming death. Now you would think that their minds would be on spiritual things—focused on the work of God in their lives. Alas, the disciples have done it again. Tripping over themselves and their lack of understanding, the disciples are engaged in a rather unflattering argument. Luke records it this way: “A dispute also arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. Jesus said to them, ‘… the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.’” Jesus, himself, tells them that he is a servant among them and challenges them to turn their routine upside down. His call to servanthood is the key to our understanding the path of responsibility that leads away from the Table each week. Nevertheless, my choice of the word responsibility, may take some unpacking.
I think that part of our confusion about responsibility comes from the way we traditionally use the word. The adults in my childhood routinely talked about “learning” responsibility. Like being responsible was an unpleasant task that one could accomplish by acquiring certain skills and abilities—chiefly around things such as obeying laws and making enough money so as not to be a burden on society. I don’t mean to be sarcastic here. I truly think that my well-meaning, down-to-earth, mid-western relatives believed that these two things were the primary things that make us ‘responsible”. I learned that education was primarily for the purpose of securing a sufficiently-paying job and that any aesthetic pleasure associated with learning was a nice side effect if it happened, but certainly not the most important aspect of learning. I learned that it was important to be able to take care of yourself and your family and to understand that one should not look to others for things that you could and should be providing for yourself. And while your experience may have differed from mine somewhat, I think that the outcome may have been similar. The word responsible has at least a sweet and sour taste in our mouths as we often make judgments about our own responsibility and, more likely, the responsibility of others.
Dictionaries define responsibility as 1) being responsible: as a moral, legal, or mental accountability or 2) reliability, trustworthiness or, finally, something for which one is responsible as in burden. No wonder we do not want to think about a path of responsibility leading from the Table into the rest of our lives. Here, however, the word responsibility refers to our ability to respond to this newness of life and creation that Paul calls us to. Jesus, then, shows us the nature of that response—the taking on of servanthood with all those who walk this way with us.
What if we begin to think of responsibility like this? R-E-S-P-O-N-S-E A-B-I-L-I-T-Y. What if we begin to discuss our actions after we leave this Table as focused on the notion of our ability to respond to the new creation that we have become by God grace in Christ Jesus. What if servanthood becomes the logical response in humility as we come to more deeply and truly understand that the new covenant is a covenant of grace—not something that we have earned, but something that God has freely given. What if we begin to view our on-going reconciliation in the process of righting all relationships with God, each other, ourselves and the world as the necessary response to the grace we so bountifully enjoy in God’s exceeding abundance? Here’s what I think…
I believe that we are called on to be ever-new, ever-changing creations in response to this new covenant that God has graced us with. I believe that we are called upon to listen to the still, soft voice of the Spirit as we are led by the rushing of the Holy Spirit to explore the deeper and deeper aspects of our spiritual lives each week—to listen to that voice call us into greater and greater reconciliation with our God, our selves, and our world. I believe that God is calling us to experience radical reconciliation with those whom have never before felt welcome in church—any church of any kind. I believe that God is calling us to focus on reconciliation with the rest of creation—with the earth, with marginalized peoples everywhere, and with our selves. I believe that the new covenant calls us to unearth the long-held, deeply buried voices of our past that tell us that we cannot be all that God calls us to be, not as people or not as a church. I believe that God is calling us to lovingly say ‘no’ to those limits that we have placed on ourselves or allowed others to place on us in the past.
What would it look like if we came each week to this Table and opened ourselves up to each other, to our innermost selves, and, most of all, to the working of the Holy Spirit in new and challenging ways? What would it feel like to say, “Ok, God, you’ve got my attention, my full attention…I’m open to you today, really open. With whom have I failed to be reconciled? With the earth? With myself over some long ago hurt or wound? This is the path of response ability—the responsibility that we freely take on to be always open to God’s call to be more than we limit ourselves to be, more than we limit this church to be.
And as we allow ourselves to be fully servant to our fellow travelers and to God, I believe that God will lead us into an increasingly abundant experience of the New Covenant—to an experience that allows us to find ourselves in the loving and serving of all of creation. For, we are in Christ and the new creation has come…come taste and see, “the old has gone, the new is here!” Amen and amen.
First Reading: 2 Corinthians 5: 17-20.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to [the Creator] in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And [God] has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making [the divine] appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.
Gospel Reading: Luke 22: 24-30
A dispute also arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. Jesus said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. You are those who have stood by me in my trials. And I confer on you a kingdom, just as [God, my parent] conferred one on me, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God of heaven and earth, we ask You to walk beside us on our journey this and every day. We thank You for leading us deeper and deeper into a life blessed by You. We seek Your guidance today. May my words about the journey and all the mediations of our hearts be pleasing to you, O God, our creator. Amen.
I started this sermon over four times. Now I have shared with you before that I have come to know that God is not in the business of making easy revelations and that I am honored when the Spirit causes me to wrestle with God over the texts—to struggle with them—to bring them to life in such a way that they are meaningful in our hearing and, most of all, in our living. And this week brought struggle and even some frustration as I carried with me our texts throughout the week and pondered what God was going to say to us on this day. Sometimes, the process makes itself clear, other times I feel as if what God is trying to say is just beyond my grasp, until, all at once, it becomes clear. Perhaps life itself is much like that—it remains somewhat confusing until it, well, isn’t. And so, this week, I spent extra time reflecting on these scriptures and our 4-week journey and I trust that God will use my words to bring this sermon series on the experience of Holy Communion to a close in a manner that allows us to honor and incorporate what we have garnered along the way into an ever-increasingly meaningful celebration of coming to the Table in this community in this time.
Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians does what Paul does best—he calls the people to come to an understanding of the grace they have been given. Listen: “… if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” And lest we be confused about who should get the credit for this, Paul states, “ All this is from God, who reconciled us through Christ “. But, wait, God isn’t done with us, God “gave us the ministry of reconciliation”. In our week of study regarding “right relationship” we took a brief look at reconciliation—that notion that we are made right with God through the life and sacrifice of Christ Jesus. And here we are, being given the ministry of reconciliation by this same God. It is not enough to merely experience our own reconciliation, we must spread the ministry beyond our own isolated experience. Our Gospel passage relates here.
In a rather somewhat strange, though sadly predictable chain of events, the disciples are having a discussion just after they participate with Jesus in the celebration of passing the cup and bread in remembrance of his life and coming death. Now you would think that their minds would be on spiritual things—focused on the work of God in their lives. Alas, the disciples have done it again. Tripping over themselves and their lack of understanding, the disciples are engaged in a rather unflattering argument. Luke records it this way: “A dispute also arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. Jesus said to them, ‘… the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.’” Jesus, himself, tells them that he is a servant among them and challenges them to turn their routine upside down. His call to servanthood is the key to our understanding the path of responsibility that leads away from the Table each week. Nevertheless, my choice of the word responsibility, may take some unpacking.
I think that part of our confusion about responsibility comes from the way we traditionally use the word. The adults in my childhood routinely talked about “learning” responsibility. Like being responsible was an unpleasant task that one could accomplish by acquiring certain skills and abilities—chiefly around things such as obeying laws and making enough money so as not to be a burden on society. I don’t mean to be sarcastic here. I truly think that my well-meaning, down-to-earth, mid-western relatives believed that these two things were the primary things that make us ‘responsible”. I learned that education was primarily for the purpose of securing a sufficiently-paying job and that any aesthetic pleasure associated with learning was a nice side effect if it happened, but certainly not the most important aspect of learning. I learned that it was important to be able to take care of yourself and your family and to understand that one should not look to others for things that you could and should be providing for yourself. And while your experience may have differed from mine somewhat, I think that the outcome may have been similar. The word responsible has at least a sweet and sour taste in our mouths as we often make judgments about our own responsibility and, more likely, the responsibility of others.
Dictionaries define responsibility as 1) being responsible: as a moral, legal, or mental accountability or 2) reliability, trustworthiness or, finally, something for which one is responsible as in burden. No wonder we do not want to think about a path of responsibility leading from the Table into the rest of our lives. Here, however, the word responsibility refers to our ability to respond to this newness of life and creation that Paul calls us to. Jesus, then, shows us the nature of that response—the taking on of servanthood with all those who walk this way with us.
What if we begin to think of responsibility like this? R-E-S-P-O-N-S-E A-B-I-L-I-T-Y. What if we begin to discuss our actions after we leave this Table as focused on the notion of our ability to respond to the new creation that we have become by God grace in Christ Jesus. What if servanthood becomes the logical response in humility as we come to more deeply and truly understand that the new covenant is a covenant of grace—not something that we have earned, but something that God has freely given. What if we begin to view our on-going reconciliation in the process of righting all relationships with God, each other, ourselves and the world as the necessary response to the grace we so bountifully enjoy in God’s exceeding abundance? Here’s what I think…
I believe that we are called on to be ever-new, ever-changing creations in response to this new covenant that God has graced us with. I believe that we are called upon to listen to the still, soft voice of the Spirit as we are led by the rushing of the Holy Spirit to explore the deeper and deeper aspects of our spiritual lives each week—to listen to that voice call us into greater and greater reconciliation with our God, our selves, and our world. I believe that God is calling us to experience radical reconciliation with those whom have never before felt welcome in church—any church of any kind. I believe that God is calling us to focus on reconciliation with the rest of creation—with the earth, with marginalized peoples everywhere, and with our selves. I believe that the new covenant calls us to unearth the long-held, deeply buried voices of our past that tell us that we cannot be all that God calls us to be, not as people or not as a church. I believe that God is calling us to lovingly say ‘no’ to those limits that we have placed on ourselves or allowed others to place on us in the past.
What would it look like if we came each week to this Table and opened ourselves up to each other, to our innermost selves, and, most of all, to the working of the Holy Spirit in new and challenging ways? What would it feel like to say, “Ok, God, you’ve got my attention, my full attention…I’m open to you today, really open. With whom have I failed to be reconciled? With the earth? With myself over some long ago hurt or wound? This is the path of response ability—the responsibility that we freely take on to be always open to God’s call to be more than we limit ourselves to be, more than we limit this church to be.
And as we allow ourselves to be fully servant to our fellow travelers and to God, I believe that God will lead us into an increasingly abundant experience of the New Covenant—to an experience that allows us to find ourselves in the loving and serving of all of creation. For, we are in Christ and the new creation has come…come taste and see, “the old has gone, the new is here!” Amen and amen.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Welcome to the Table: The Inner Transformation 8-7-11
THE READINGS (The Inclusive Bible ©2007)
FIRST READING— I Peter 1: 22,23 and 2: 2-6
By obedience to the truth you have purified yourselves for a genuine love of your sisters and brothers. Therefore love one another constantly, from the heart. Your rebirth has come not from a perishable seed but from an imperishable one—the living and enduring world of God. Therefore, never be spiteful, deceitful, hypocritical, envious or critical of each other. Like newborn babies, be hungry for nothing but milk—the pure milk of the word that will make you grow into salvation, now that you have “tasted that our God is good.” Come to Christ—a living stone, rejected by mortals but approved nonetheless, chosen and precious in God’s eyes. And you are living stones as well: you are being built as an edifice of spirit, to become a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices to God through Jesus Christ.
SECOND READING—John 7: 37-38
On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood up and shouted, “Any who are thirsty, let them come to me and drink! Those who believe in me, as the scripture says, ‘from their innermost being will flow rivers of living water.’”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God, our rock in every time, grant us mercy and peace—in quiet and solitude may we seek your healing love. May the words of my mouth and all the different meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you, O God. Amen
This is the third sermon in our series on our experience of communion and it’s been a busy week—a good week, full of appointments and meetings and excitement—but a busy one, nonetheless. And so I found myself confronted with the topic at hand—the inner transformation! I really did need to quiet the many voices in my head that all sounded a lot like this: “so much to do, so much to do, no time, no time, no time—just do, do, do”. But God is faithful, and when we listen, God makes a way back to the center and so before I could stand before you today and speak of transformation, I had a journey to make. And so, I journeyed alone to Sholom Park in Ocala to visit, for the first time, the labyrinth that is in that park. It had been recommended to me some time ago by one of you, and for some reason, on that day, I knew I needed what it had to offer. And so, this sermon on inner transformation came to life as I walked that labyrinth in the middle of a very hot day just a few days ago.
For those of you unfamiliar with labyrinths, let me describe them to you. They are not mazes—there is one way in and you retrace your steps to leave. There are no dead ends, no tricks—no frustration awaits you at a wrong turn. Labyrinths are like spirals and cause us to reflect upon our inner and outer lives—delving deeper and deeper as we walk into the labyrinth and reflecting more and more on what we take back with us into our lives as we leave the inner place of transformation. There are famous labyrinths—the most famous in the Cathedral at Chartres in France. I have walked labyrinths in retreats, in conferences and, occasionally, as I did this week, alone.
First of all, I arrived at the path leading to the labyrinth in the middle of a very hot day. Now many of you know that I don’t “do” heat very well—the fan under the pulpit may have been the first clue. And so, as I arrived, I found myself questioning the wisdom of this particular pilgrimage. But, God would not let me go. So, off I started down the path to find the entryway into the labyrinth. As I walked toward the beginning, I noticed that this labyrinth was unlike any I had ever seen. It wasn’t a ‘regular’ labyrinth at all, but a series of pathways leading to a center that I could not, at first, identify. I fumed at God—couldn’t even take me to a labyrinth I recognized. I allowed that thought to drift away as I began to notice that the bugs were getting pretty bad so my mind went to the frustration of batting away the gnats that were starting to buzz around my face. I rounded a particular curve and pulled myself up short—God had brought me to this place and I really did want to see what lay ahead of me on the path, so I quieted my irritations and opened my mind and heart, just as I stepped through the arbor that serves as the entrance.
This beautiful and unique labyrinth is a winding path that has many guideposts along the way. I want to share a few of those ‘stopping places’ with you as I believe they relate quite well to the healing, transforming journey we take each week as we come from wherever we are in our hearts and minds to the Table where we experience God’s grace. I viewed these signs as stations where I was called to stop and let God invite me to go deeper into this journey of transformation. The first sign described what was ahead: “It is a physical and spiritual place to invite your contemplative, meditative, imaginary, intuitive, playful, artistic, poetic, creative, soulful being into oneness and fullness with nature. We invite you to experience your full range of emotions in the safety of this sacred place created over the centuries just for you.” And if asked to describe what I hope happens for us as journey to the Table each week I am unable to describe it better. I hope that we know that we are invited as well to experience all of ourselves in the safety of this sacred place, this labyrinth of thoughts and prayers that leads us to the center resting place here at the Table.
I walked a bit further. Some green grass grows just beyond the fence. The sign read: “Let my heart be still, turn my heart inward and be present in the now.” And as we journey inward, may we still our hearts and wait for what God has in store for us this day. A few more signs and then a tree looms large in front of me—one scarred from a lightning strike many years ago. The sign simply reads: “All of us are also wounded, even the greatest among us. Notice how this tree still stands strong…” And so I paused, thinking of my own wounds and the wounds of others that gather round this table—still standing strong, yet wounded, nevertheless. I invite us all to ponder how our woundedness allows us to be open to the pain of others—how our own grief shows us how to participate in the grief of others—calling us to be a place of healing and peace. The labyrinth path invites me to walk to the other side of the wounded tree—the side which shows no evidence of the wound at all and yet, I am strangely drawn more to the wounded side where I can be all that I am and invite others to be all that they are as we come together in God’s presence here at this Table.
Next comes a vista—out over a meadow and I am invited to explore where God is calling me to new experiences of faith and hope. Here, each week, we see new vistas of where God is calling us—each one different and yet all called to be the body of Christ as we gather round this very Table. Soon I come upon a garden of peace roses—a little bedraggled from the same summer heat that I am experiencing, but still reminding me of the gentle places of peace that God gives to me along my path. This place, this circle of friends, is one of those places in which I love to rest and be renewed. And then, more roses, a place to sit where roses grow all around. Here, in the quiet, I drink in the peace and remember that God calls us first to peace, gentleness and love and then sends us out to spread the good news of God’s reign of justice and hope.
Aha! I spy the center now—a large tree with branches coming down nearly to the ground providing rich shade for the circle of benches. While I briefly think about going directly to the resting place, God gently pushes me not to cut my experience short or take an easy way. And it is worth it, because now I can hear the waterfalls and see the stream reminding me that my life is ever-changing, and ever delightful—that even my trials are short-lived as God brings me to deeper understanding of all that takes place in my life. We come, week after week, our lives sometimes easy and sometimes hard, but God reminds us that the ever faithful love of our Creator waits for us each week as we seek to know more and more of God.
The path dips a little, reminiscent of a valley. I stop and take some time to view all that lies ahead and see that the resting place remains ahead of me. As we come to the Table, we come with all that we are—and as we walk through the valleys of life, we are grateful that the Table lies ahead. I walk through a garden of flowers and suddenly I am there, at the resting place where I feed on the quiet and the soft spoken words: “I told you I was waiting here in the center.” What I experienced most at the center was rest—the sense that the same God who created me and then redeemed me was waiting there to sustain me as well, to fill me with a sense of deep restoration and peace. And so I sat for a while until I knew it was time to go.
Walking back out, retracing my steps, I couldn’t help but notice how different some of the views looked from my new perspective—how the re-fueling and reviving of my spirit lightened my step and sent me out of the sacred space ready to encounter all that God had waiting for me—in the days and weeks to come. May you all experience this deep sense of renewal as you come to Table this very day. May God bless you with the rest and transformation waiting for you as you taste and see that God leads us all on very good journeys indeed. Amen and amen.
FIRST READING— I Peter 1: 22,23 and 2: 2-6
By obedience to the truth you have purified yourselves for a genuine love of your sisters and brothers. Therefore love one another constantly, from the heart. Your rebirth has come not from a perishable seed but from an imperishable one—the living and enduring world of God. Therefore, never be spiteful, deceitful, hypocritical, envious or critical of each other. Like newborn babies, be hungry for nothing but milk—the pure milk of the word that will make you grow into salvation, now that you have “tasted that our God is good.” Come to Christ—a living stone, rejected by mortals but approved nonetheless, chosen and precious in God’s eyes. And you are living stones as well: you are being built as an edifice of spirit, to become a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices to God through Jesus Christ.
SECOND READING—John 7: 37-38
On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood up and shouted, “Any who are thirsty, let them come to me and drink! Those who believe in me, as the scripture says, ‘from their innermost being will flow rivers of living water.’”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God, our rock in every time, grant us mercy and peace—in quiet and solitude may we seek your healing love. May the words of my mouth and all the different meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you, O God. Amen
This is the third sermon in our series on our experience of communion and it’s been a busy week—a good week, full of appointments and meetings and excitement—but a busy one, nonetheless. And so I found myself confronted with the topic at hand—the inner transformation! I really did need to quiet the many voices in my head that all sounded a lot like this: “so much to do, so much to do, no time, no time, no time—just do, do, do”. But God is faithful, and when we listen, God makes a way back to the center and so before I could stand before you today and speak of transformation, I had a journey to make. And so, I journeyed alone to Sholom Park in Ocala to visit, for the first time, the labyrinth that is in that park. It had been recommended to me some time ago by one of you, and for some reason, on that day, I knew I needed what it had to offer. And so, this sermon on inner transformation came to life as I walked that labyrinth in the middle of a very hot day just a few days ago.
For those of you unfamiliar with labyrinths, let me describe them to you. They are not mazes—there is one way in and you retrace your steps to leave. There are no dead ends, no tricks—no frustration awaits you at a wrong turn. Labyrinths are like spirals and cause us to reflect upon our inner and outer lives—delving deeper and deeper as we walk into the labyrinth and reflecting more and more on what we take back with us into our lives as we leave the inner place of transformation. There are famous labyrinths—the most famous in the Cathedral at Chartres in France. I have walked labyrinths in retreats, in conferences and, occasionally, as I did this week, alone.
First of all, I arrived at the path leading to the labyrinth in the middle of a very hot day. Now many of you know that I don’t “do” heat very well—the fan under the pulpit may have been the first clue. And so, as I arrived, I found myself questioning the wisdom of this particular pilgrimage. But, God would not let me go. So, off I started down the path to find the entryway into the labyrinth. As I walked toward the beginning, I noticed that this labyrinth was unlike any I had ever seen. It wasn’t a ‘regular’ labyrinth at all, but a series of pathways leading to a center that I could not, at first, identify. I fumed at God—couldn’t even take me to a labyrinth I recognized. I allowed that thought to drift away as I began to notice that the bugs were getting pretty bad so my mind went to the frustration of batting away the gnats that were starting to buzz around my face. I rounded a particular curve and pulled myself up short—God had brought me to this place and I really did want to see what lay ahead of me on the path, so I quieted my irritations and opened my mind and heart, just as I stepped through the arbor that serves as the entrance.
This beautiful and unique labyrinth is a winding path that has many guideposts along the way. I want to share a few of those ‘stopping places’ with you as I believe they relate quite well to the healing, transforming journey we take each week as we come from wherever we are in our hearts and minds to the Table where we experience God’s grace. I viewed these signs as stations where I was called to stop and let God invite me to go deeper into this journey of transformation. The first sign described what was ahead: “It is a physical and spiritual place to invite your contemplative, meditative, imaginary, intuitive, playful, artistic, poetic, creative, soulful being into oneness and fullness with nature. We invite you to experience your full range of emotions in the safety of this sacred place created over the centuries just for you.” And if asked to describe what I hope happens for us as journey to the Table each week I am unable to describe it better. I hope that we know that we are invited as well to experience all of ourselves in the safety of this sacred place, this labyrinth of thoughts and prayers that leads us to the center resting place here at the Table.
I walked a bit further. Some green grass grows just beyond the fence. The sign read: “Let my heart be still, turn my heart inward and be present in the now.” And as we journey inward, may we still our hearts and wait for what God has in store for us this day. A few more signs and then a tree looms large in front of me—one scarred from a lightning strike many years ago. The sign simply reads: “All of us are also wounded, even the greatest among us. Notice how this tree still stands strong…” And so I paused, thinking of my own wounds and the wounds of others that gather round this table—still standing strong, yet wounded, nevertheless. I invite us all to ponder how our woundedness allows us to be open to the pain of others—how our own grief shows us how to participate in the grief of others—calling us to be a place of healing and peace. The labyrinth path invites me to walk to the other side of the wounded tree—the side which shows no evidence of the wound at all and yet, I am strangely drawn more to the wounded side where I can be all that I am and invite others to be all that they are as we come together in God’s presence here at this Table.
Next comes a vista—out over a meadow and I am invited to explore where God is calling me to new experiences of faith and hope. Here, each week, we see new vistas of where God is calling us—each one different and yet all called to be the body of Christ as we gather round this very Table. Soon I come upon a garden of peace roses—a little bedraggled from the same summer heat that I am experiencing, but still reminding me of the gentle places of peace that God gives to me along my path. This place, this circle of friends, is one of those places in which I love to rest and be renewed. And then, more roses, a place to sit where roses grow all around. Here, in the quiet, I drink in the peace and remember that God calls us first to peace, gentleness and love and then sends us out to spread the good news of God’s reign of justice and hope.
Aha! I spy the center now—a large tree with branches coming down nearly to the ground providing rich shade for the circle of benches. While I briefly think about going directly to the resting place, God gently pushes me not to cut my experience short or take an easy way. And it is worth it, because now I can hear the waterfalls and see the stream reminding me that my life is ever-changing, and ever delightful—that even my trials are short-lived as God brings me to deeper understanding of all that takes place in my life. We come, week after week, our lives sometimes easy and sometimes hard, but God reminds us that the ever faithful love of our Creator waits for us each week as we seek to know more and more of God.
The path dips a little, reminiscent of a valley. I stop and take some time to view all that lies ahead and see that the resting place remains ahead of me. As we come to the Table, we come with all that we are—and as we walk through the valleys of life, we are grateful that the Table lies ahead. I walk through a garden of flowers and suddenly I am there, at the resting place where I feed on the quiet and the soft spoken words: “I told you I was waiting here in the center.” What I experienced most at the center was rest—the sense that the same God who created me and then redeemed me was waiting there to sustain me as well, to fill me with a sense of deep restoration and peace. And so I sat for a while until I knew it was time to go.
Walking back out, retracing my steps, I couldn’t help but notice how different some of the views looked from my new perspective—how the re-fueling and reviving of my spirit lightened my step and sent me out of the sacred space ready to encounter all that God had waiting for me—in the days and weeks to come. May you all experience this deep sense of renewal as you come to Table this very day. May God bless you with the rest and transformation waiting for you as you taste and see that God leads us all on very good journeys indeed. Amen and amen.
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