Walking the Garden Walk 9-4-11

THE READINGS (The Message)

First Reading: 1 John 4: 17-22
God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love. We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. [God] loved us first. If anyone boasts, "I love God," and goes right on hating [their] brother or sister, thinking nothing of it, [they are] liars. If [we] won't love the person [we] can see, how can [we] love the God [we] can't see? The command we have from Christ is blunt: Loving God includes loving people. You've got to love both.

Gospel Reading: John 20: 1-2, 10-16
Early in the morning on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone was moved away from the entrance. She ran at once to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, breathlessly panting, "They took the Master from the tomb. We don't know where they've put him." …..No one yet knew from the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead. The disciples then went back home.
But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. As she wept, she knelt to look into the tomb and saw two angels sitting there, dressed in white, one at the head, the other at the foot of where Jesus' body had been laid. They said to her, "Woman, why do you weep?" "They took my Master," she said, "and I don't know where they put him." After she said this, she turned away and saw Jesus standing there. But she didn't recognize him. Jesus spoke to her, "Woman, why do you weep? Who are you looking for?" She, thinking that he was the gardener, said, "Mister, if you took him, tell me where you put him so I can care for him." Jesus said, "Mary." Turning to face him, she said in Hebrew, "Rabboni!" meaning "Teacher!"
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God, we ask for the blessing of Your presence to be made known in the speaking and hearing of these words. May all that we do bring glory to You. Amen

Today, we begin what I think will be an interesting and spiritually beneficial look at four of the most popular hymns in the Christian tradition. “In the Garden”, our first hymn which we sang together at the beginning of our time together is a well-loved hymn which brings us face to face with looking at our personal relationship with the Divine. And it does so in very personal and embodied way. Some of you, when singing this song, may have remembered the many funerals at which you heard or sang this song. Indeed, many in the praisechoir, when first presented with the music, told me: “That’s a funeral song.” Let me tell you what I told them. There is nothing funereal about this song at all. The fact that you hear it at so many funerals reflects the popularity of this song particularly in the generation of many of our parents and their friends. That got me to thinking about the “why” of its popularity and what we can learn today in this setting which is very much not like a funeral at all.
We are spiritual creatures who embody real live human forms—we walk and we talk. We live on a physical plane but we have very real spiritual needs that require us to know the joy of inviting and recognizing the presence of the Divine into our very real physical world. This hymn is the epitome of what we do each and every time we commune with our God, whatever we call this God and however we envision this God to be. I think what I like most about this hymn is not its melody—in reality, I’m not particularly fond of it and certainly do not treasure the many quite horrible renditions of In the Garden I have encountered along the way. What speaks to my heart most of all, is the radical closeness of the relationship between myself and the Divine—in this case, Jesus—that is portrayed in the words of this sweet hymn. Our Gospel passage retold the biblical story that served as the inspiration for this song. C. Austin Miles, who was a pharmacist by trade, wrote this hymn after his own encounter with that same story. He writes this:
“One day in April 1912, I was seated in the dark room, where I kept my photographic equipment…I drew my Bible toward me; it opened at my favorite chapter, John 20—whether by chance or inspiration let each reader decide. That meeting of Jesus and Mary had lost none of it power and charm…My hands were resting on the Bible while I stared at the light blue wall. As the light faded, I seemed to be standing at the entrance of a garden, looking down a gently winding path, shaded by olive branches. A woman in white, with head bowed, hand clasping her throat, as if to choke back her sobs, walked slowly into the shadows. It was Mary…She saw Jesus standing. So did I. I knew it was He. She knelt before Him, with arms outstretched and looking in His face, cried, “Rabboni!” I awakened in sunlight, gripping the Bible, with muscles tense and nerves vibrating. Under the inspiration of this vision I wrote as quickly as the words could be formed the poem exactly as it has since appeared. That same evening I wrote the music.”
And so, this hymn, so popular at funerals, is not a funeral hymn at all. In fact, it is very much the opposite—it is an Easter hymn that celebrates Mary’s gratitude and worship at the sight of a risen Jesus. It celebrates her joy and ecstasy when she is once again in the physical presence of Jesus. And we have much to learn.
For most of us, our formal religious training, I use the words loosely in most cases, has rarely encouraged us to look at faith as an embodied act—as an act that requires us to use heart, and mind, and body. In fact, most of us learned to stay as far away from our bodies as we could when thinking or talking about our religious faith. And, as a result, we may well have a well-practiced art of keeping mind and heart or spirit, and body separate. This hymn and the story it tells, calls us to a different place—a place where we are not split into two beings—a spiritual being and a physical being—no, it calls us to a place where we are whole—where our worship invades our bodies and celebrates our ability to walk and talk and be physically present to the Divine. This mind/heart-body split is what makes it possible for people to hate us and anyone who looks or acts differently that what mainstream religion requires us to be. If we truly understood—and I mean all of us, truly understood the wonderful truth of this quaint hymn several things would happen. We would be physically as well as spiritually present in our experiences of the Divine, and it would become impossible to look at physical or biological differences to separate us. And we would be at ease with who we are. And, I would like to think, that we would be much more comfortable using our entire bodies in our acts of worship. We might let God’s presence, at least in private, invade our very bodies as we begin to feel and sense in new ways God’s presence in our lives. Now, I am not suggesting that we start dancing or swaying, although I certainly see nothing wrong if we were to do so; but I am more interested in our healing our mind/spirit/body divisions and by doing so enlarge our healing to the created world itself.
For that, I take us to our first reading. The writer of First John is eloquent in the description of the spiritual life and very physical words are used indeed. First the proclamation upon which all else is based—“God is love!” Living a life of love means that God lives in us as we live in God. And this love permeates every aspect of our life. The author says, in our translation today, that love has “the run of the house”. And where there is love, there is no room for fear or for hatred. And less, we quibble over the intricacies of loving a God we cannot see, John is clear—we love and experience God by loving God and loving very real, physical people. We cannot love one without loving the other. And so our experience of the Divine moves effortlessly back and forth between the spiritual and physical—loving God—loving each other. And, dare I say, loving the creation.
I have for many years, claimed with pride, my Celtic ancestry, as some of you do as well. The Celts, living in ancient Ireland, Scotland and Wales, have, perhaps more than any other tradition resisted and mended, when necessary, the mind/spirit/body division. Nature is one with spirituality. The world and all her people are one with God, the creator and sustainer. We are redeemed on an everyday basis by our love in and of God and in creation itself. The Celts knew full well that we cannot limit God. In the early writings of the Celts, centuries before feminists called us to inclusive and expansive language, God is referred to as both Father and Mother—both creator and sustainer. The nurturing power of creation—the very physical realm of experience—is celebrated and treasured.
Though it is not the least bit a Celtic hymn, I think that the Celts would appreciate In the Garden as it acknowledges the beauty of the world that is at work in the larger experience of the Divine. The birds, themselves, stop their singing as they understand they are in the presence of the Divine. And the melody that comes from this walking and talking in the garden calls us to deeper and deeper relationship with the one who redeems and sustains us.
You may be familiar with knots that are used as symbols in the Celtic traditions. These knots of the Celts call us to understand how profoundly all of the aspects of our lives are intertwined with the Spiritual, the world, and with all other beings. Dame Julian of Norwich, writes of this intertwining when she says, “God is in everything. God is nature’s substance. So she speaks of smelling God, of swallowing God in waters, and of feeling God in “the human body and the body of creation.” Just as the knot is completely intertwined, we are completely intertwined with God and nature and God’s grace. Just as the writer of First John says, you can’t love God without loving people, Dame Julian calls us to a complete understanding of the intertwining of grace, nature, and God. Julian expands this intertwining and tells us that our deepest longing—our love longing—is the sacred longing for union. As we experience more and more of God, our longing for God increases.
This, then is the nature of the garden walk—this intertwined longing that is both nourished and encouraged by spending time in the presence of God. And lest you think this is somehow impossible, or unreachable for those of us still struggling with our God-walks, our simple hymn leads us to the truth. As we walk and talk and spend time feeling treasured in our spiritual and natural gardens with God, we will long for more of the same. Our hearts will open to more that God has to show us, and we will grow in grace and love. Amen and amen.

What's Going On Here? 8-28-11

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.

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

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.
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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.

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.’”
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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.

Welcome to the Table: The Call to Right Relationship 7-31-11

First Reading: Philippians 2: 1-11
Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had:
Who, being in very nature God,did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God, [our Creator].
Luke 18: 9-14
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
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God, giver of the gifts of peace, mercy, justice and truth, speak to us this day. Call us to wonder anew at Your creation. Teach us to walk in right relation through the love of the Holy Spirit. Amen
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Here’s a story you may recognize—don’t worry, the names have been camouflaged to protect the innocent or not so innocent. Seems there was this couple, they’ve been together a really long time—know each other well. Very little surprises them—they could be Josie and Joellen, or John and Jack, or Jack and Joellen, for that matter. Well, they were sitting on their lanai, having their coffee one morning and reading their papers. Joellen says to Josie (you substitute the names that work for you), “Do you know what day it is?” Josie, thinks for a minute and then panics (You may identify with her panic!), “Of course, she says.” Now we all know the truth—Josie has no clue what day it is and so she sets out to make sure that she does everything she can to keep Joellen from finding this out. As soon as she gets to work, she orders a big, beautiful bouquet of white roses—has them delivered “with love” right to Joellen’s desk at work. Then she stops and buys a great big box of chocolate and makes a reservation at the nicest restaurant in town. She texts Joellen—meet me at the Steak Place at 7—let’s have a special meal to celebrate. She walks into the restaurant, kisses Joellen, gives her the chocolate, orders the most expensive bottle of wine in the place and proceeds to order the chateaubriand for two. Midway through dinner, Joellen says (and we can hear the ‘twinkle in her eye’), “wow, this is the best groundhog’s day I’ve ever had!”
And so we come again to this Table spread before us. Some of us come tired from the week we’ve just finished and some come anxious about the week ahead, but God invites and we arrive in all our humanness and need: our joy, our pain, our confusion and certainty. And God, says “Welcome to the Table!” But sometimes, we really don’t know what day it is and although we may rush around and try to do all the right things—we miss the mark. We answer a question with the completely wrong answer when the right answer is so close at hand.
God invites us, as Paul invites the Christians at Philippi—to participate in right relationship as we enter into this feast of fellowship and common celebration. Paul asks a favor from his friends in Philippi—Have they experienced any encouragement or comfort from being in Christ? If the answer is yes (and we know that Paul already knows that it is so), then he wants it to be so for all. He calls them to be in ‘right relationship’ with each other. Not to buy gifts for him or for each other, but to give the gift of Christ as they share in common. And Paul describes exactly what this means: “in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had.” Paul continues, “ Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!”
Aha! the crux of the matter—humility. Jesus points this out in our Gospel lesson as well. Not impressed with the ‘showing off’ of the Pharisee—the grandiose religiosity for the sake of being seen and heard, Jesus calls us to be like the flawed, but humble tax collector, praying quietly in the corner—seeking God’s forgiveness and mercy. Surely this is not quite what we expect, not quite the day we thought it was. Here we have both Jesus and Paul challenging us to think these things through a different way—to put away the answer we thought God required and all those things we hoped would do, and hear the question again, this time is a new way, a way that challenges us to the very core of who we thought we were—challenges us to make sure that we know what day it is, that we understand the fullness of the feast and the nature of God’s call.
God calls us to right relationship in three separate, yet very much related areas—with the Divine, with others and with self. Let’s look briefly at each as it applies to God’s welcome to the Table. In humbleness, we seek to be in right relationship with God. Perhaps this right relationship in all areas will become more clear if we think about God’s peace offered to us as we come to Table. God’s perfect peace, known as shalom in the Old Testament can be described as complete and whole and only present when right relationship exist between people and God, people and each other, and people and themselves. I believe that there are seven aspects of this right relationship which can help us understand God’s call to us this day.
One: God is, by nature, relational and revelational. The world, including humankind, was created to be in relationship with the very source of creation. When human beings are in right relationship with their Creator, they will rejoice in the rest of creation and care for it. They will celebrate their inter-relationship with all of creation and experience a profound sense of gratitude to the God who invites us to come along. And God, through creation and constant re-creation, reveals the divine desire to remain in positive relationship with us. Once we grasp that the relationship between God, humankind, and the rest of creation is inter-twined, that we cannot have one without the other, God’s shalom—perfect peace—is present.
Two: Our common purpose, shared with all of creation is to bring glory to the God who creates us, redeems us and sustains us. When we recognize that we share this purpose with all creation, we become more keenly aware of our place in creation and our responsibility for maintaining that relationship. We become convinced that we must maintain right relationships with others and with ourselves. We honor those who differ from us, who dislike us, who wish us ill. And when, we treat ourselves with less than God’s fullest love, we are called back into the perfect relationship with the one who created us in the image of the Divine. We take on, as Paul calls us to, the mind of Christ.
Three: We—all of us—break down those perfect shalom-like relationships when we allow ourselves to reject the humility to which we are called. Sin, the belief that we are equal to God, clouds our perceptions and causes us to set ourselves above others—like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable for this day. We come to think that we are better than the rest of creation—the rest of humankind—that we can make it without God’s perfect grace and peace. Our right relationship, our shalom is shattered, by our own turning away from that which keeps us settled in the midst of God’s love.
Four: Jesus, whom we celebrate each and every time we are invited to this meal, restored the broken relationships caused by humankind refusing God’s grace and gift of peace. As we celebrate the ‘cup of the new covenant’ we proclaim that this restoration of broken relationships has taken place. And so we come to this Feast with open hearts, ready to heal and be healed—ready to reach out and to be reached out to. We come longing for the restoration of our relationships, seeking those with whom we have broken the sacred trust of God’s lovingkindness.
Five: Once our relationships are restored, God gives us the gift of the Holy Spirit to help us maintain those right relationships. It is through this divine Spirit that we learn to love as Jesus loved. Our ‘process’ becomes God’s process at work in us—our journeys belong to God, our peace, God’s perfect shalom at every step.
Six: We can maintain those right relationships only by being open to the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives and in our interactions with those around us and our individual spiritual formation as led and directed by this same Holy Spirit. We bring the working of the Holy Spirit in all our relationships with us to the Table each and every time we accept God’s invitation.
And, finally, seven: the Church, God’s perfect example of right relationship on this earthly plane, is sustained and transformed constantly through the work of this same Holy Spirit. Falling out of right relationship with God, each other, or ourselves, we are called back—we are offered the chance to enter again into this place of rightness and shalom—we are reconciled through the Feast itself. And so, again this Sunday, like every Sunday, we come, we taste and we see that God is very good indeed. Amen and amen.

Welcome to the Table: An Invitation to Authenticity 7-24-11

THE READINGS (The Inclusive Bible ©2007))

First Reading: I Corinthians 10: 1-4

I want you to remember this: our ancestors were all under the cloud and all passed through the sea; by the cloud and the sea all of them were baptized into Moses. All ate the same spiritual food. All drank the same spiritual drink—they drank from the spiritual rock that was following them, and the rock was Christ.

Gospel Reading: Matthew 26: 16-18, 26-30

On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came up to Jesus and said, “Where do you want us to prepare the Passover for you?” Jesus told them to go to a certain person in the city and say, “the Teacher says, ‘My appointed time draws near. I am to celebrate the Passover in your house.’”
During the meal, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it and gave it to the disciples. “Take this and eat it,” Jesus said. “This is my body.” Then he took a coup, gave thanks, and gave it to them. “Drink from it, all of you,” He said. “This is my blood, the blood of the Covenant, which will be poured out on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins. The truth is, I will not drink this fruit of the vine again until the day when I drink it anew with you in my Abba’s kingdom.” Then, after singing the Hallel, they walked out to the Mount of Olives.
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Welcome to the Table: An Invitation to Authenticity 7-24-11
God, our Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, You invite us to participate in Your reign of justice and peace. You never fail to say “welcome”. Grant us the grace to always say “yes”. May the words of my mouth and the reflections in all our hearts please you this day. Amen
I want to take you back to 19th Century Denmark, to an impoverished village inhabited by poor, but religious people. Two sisters, daughters of the town’s only pastor, live and serve the poor folk of the town, almost as Protestant nuns, even after his death. A French refugee, named Babette, arrives one day on their doorstep and begs them to take her in. They do not know her or know anything about her, but following their father’s teachings, they allow her to stay. She works with them for a while and then two things happen at very much the same time. The sisters decide that they wish to have some sort of party to commemorate what would have been their father’s 100th birthday. And Babette discovers that she has managed to purchase the winning lottery ticket. Babette begs them again, this time to allow her to prepare the feast for the party. They are skeptical, after all she is a French Catholic; they are staunch protestants with a puritanical bent. But they agree. The day of the feast arrives. And although the townsfolk have already decided that this feast will not be something they will like, they grudgingly arrive for the party. Babette has worked for days and begins to set the feast before them. “Welcome to the table!” she says. Plate after plate of the most delicious food they have ever eaten is placed before them. Soon they have forgotten their pledges not to enjoy this feast and all are talking and partaking in the party atmosphere—loving and laughing, and forgetting , for a time, that they live a subsistence life in a dark and dreary village. One of the villagers has a visitor, a nephew from Paris who is used to the finer things of life. He announces, “Only one time before have I tasted such amazing food and that was at the finest restaurant in Paris!” Finally Babette acknowledges that, before political persecution drove her from Paris, she was the top chef at that very restaurant. In all the time she had been with them no one had ever guessed that she was a famous chef who lived as social royalty in Paris. This, of course, is the story of “Babette’s Feast” an international film that came out in 1987. I suspect that we can learn just a little from Babette’s feast as it relates to our introduction to our series of Sundays where we will speak of the Communion Feast. Welcome to the table, oui?
I wonder if we, like Babette’s guests, are sometimes caught off guard, not expecting this Table, spread before us, to contain the richest blessings God has to offer. Or how often we come determined not to let God speak to us through the breaking of bread and sharing of the fruit of the vine. Or sadder still, how many times are we are so pre-occupied with life, that we come—go through the motions—and leave, allowing the experience to have no impact at all. But in the movie, the blessings get the better of them and they find themselves in great joy and fellowship in spite of themselves. And while here is where our comparison to French food must necessarily cease, the question is a good one: what if we allow God’s blessings to get the better of us at this Table? What if we make a conscious effort to bring our whole selves—the saintly, the not-so-saintly and the just plain, well, ugly—parts of ourselves to this Table, this morning? Think about it.
Some of us come from traditions where communion—this Lord’s supper—is rarely celebrated. And some of you come from traditions where the Eucharist is the center of all worship and faith. When asked why MCC churches celebrate communion each week, there is one common answer. Rev. Troy Perry, when he founded MCC, wanted to make sure that no matter when you arrived on the doorstep of an MCC church, that communion would be available. This is the surface answer, of course, there is much more behind Rev. Perry’s reasoning. When we are denied communion, and many of us were, we are cut off from what is literally the lifeblood of the church. We are separated from what makes us God’s community—not by God, of course, but by those who would seek to exclude us. And so, as we understand more and more about the centrality of the coming to Table in the worship experience and the life of the believer, we come to understand why the invitation to the feast must be offered every time we meet. And, even more importantly, we come to understand the meaning and depth of our participation in this sacrament with all those others who are gathered with us this day and every time we meet to worship.
Now I admit that the history and tradition of communion has not always gone smoothly. Churches have divided over theological debates regarding the nature of communion –some of you feel very strongly about those debates and the theological arguments in them. Some of you have never given it a thought, and the vast majority of us are somewhere in between. For me, this day, there are two fundamental questions that I need to know the answers to when I accept God’s invitation to the Table. Those would appear to be simple questions. Alas, they are not—but for me, I need to know these two things: Who is this God who invites me to feast and who am I as I accept the invitation.
Now I could preach for another 90 minutes on “Who is God at the Table?”. Relax, I have no intention of doing so, but we will return to this question time and time again throughout the next few weeks. The second question would not take me so long to answer, but would take a lifetime to live into. So who is God? God is not only our host, God is our creator, redeemer and sustainer. Hear what Paul tells the Christians at Corinth about the Old Testament Israelites in their journey in God. They ate the same spiritual food, and drank the same spiritual drink from a rock that followed them everywhere they went. And who was that rock? That rock was Jesus Christ who is sustaining the wandering Israelites with food and drink. Not only is it important for Paul to link ‘the Christ’ to the spiritual food and drink given to the Israelites by God, it is important that this spiritual food and drink be the same for all who partook. So, our God is an historical God—a God who has and who will feed us for all time—and all with the same food.
In our Gospel lesson, Jesus reveals more about God and the gift of the feast. Body and blood, only human beings have bodies and blood. And there sits Jesus, the incarnation of our God, talking about his body and blood. His body given for us, and his blood “poured out for the forgiveness of sins”. And he calls us to a new covenant—a covenant born out of his sacrifice. Jesus becomes the great Paschal lamb, freely and fully, giving himself in our place. God’s gift to us of grace and freedom is made possible with this sacrifice of Jesus, dying and rising again.
This God, comes to us in the flesh, walks with us and talks with us and shows us how to live and, finally, calls us to celebrate the memory of this earthly Jesus—and to participate in the mystery of God’s redemption in real, physical ways. God calls us to incarnate the divine act of redemption. So this God who invites us to Table, is here with us, present in the fellowship, present in the meal. And we present ourselves as guests, fully open to partake of God and fully open to accept and love all the others also present at Table in the feast. This is where the Christian life becomes its realest of real—its authenticity, if you will, is part and parcel of our experience when we accept the invitation to the Table.
I am coming to the end of my time and I told you there were two questions of importance for me. We will spend much more time in the next three weeks looking at both questions but, especially, the second question: Who am I as I come to the Table and go from the Table? As a child of God I have been welcomed into the Family of God—I am perfectly acceptable in God’s sight. How do I know this? Because God has issued the invitation. And the invitation that I have answered is to participate in something much larger than myself—to be wholly God’s child seeking all that God has to show me regarding this living in God, this be-ing in God, this growing in God. I pray that, today, coming to the Table is the beginning of something new and wonderful in our lives and in the life of this church. Amen and Amen.