 Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr, Pastor “It’s Past Time for St*pleton to Go” June 14, 2020 “I have little to say, except that I will work with the Klan and for the Klan in the coming election heart and soul. And if I am re-elected, I shall give the Klan the kind of administration it wants.” Those are the promises of former Denver mayor Benjamin St*pleton, a name familiar to most in Denver because he was given the honor of the name of the former airport. And then, after the airport, a massive area of land encompassing many neighborhoods, but known in total as St*pleton. That name must now go. It’s not as though people haven’t tried over and over and over again. But now, it is time for St*pleton to go. Not only did he promise his “heart and soul” to the KKK, he filled his cabinet and police forces with members of the KKK. His election to mayor of Denver was celebrated by cross burnings on the top of South Table Mountain. The KKK burned crosses in celebration of Benjamin St*pleton. People claim that he later changed his tune. Regardless, despite any change of that heart or accomplishments, Jews, Chinese, Catholics, immigrants, and African Americans were all openly terrorized with impunity during his reign. None of them was asked when the airport was named in 1944 whether they thought his accomplishments outweighed the fiery terror that rained down upon them. Those actions were fresh. Those with the power to name then, didn’t care. But now, it is time for St*pleton to go. It’s past time. Many people who have moved to the St*pleton neighborhood in the past decade were unaware of this history. When the airport closed, attempts were made to change the name. Most recently, Black Lives Matter brought attention to this in 2015. After years of education and consciousness raising, last year property owners in St*pleton were given the opportunity to voice their opinion. But those with interests in keeping the name created an election in which 1) only property owners could vote. That means the many who live in apartments had no voice. 2) only one person per household could vote. Two adults with two opinions could voice only one opinion. 3) ballot irregularities were ignored throwing confusion into an already heated debate. I went to the meeting of the Master Community Association at which the results of that vote were ratified. I could as easily have been sitting in on a meeting in Birmingham or Selma in the 1950s. The group was annoyed, calling neighbors initiating the name change of being “outsiders coming in.” They weren’t. The group was impatient to get this off their agenda. They called the ReName group’s concerns overhyped and accused advocates of bad behavior. Dr. King wrote to clergymen from his jail cell in Birmingham that he had “hoped the white moderate would see this [injustice. But I should have expected] that few members of a race that has oppressed another race can understand or appreciate the deep groans and passionate yearnings of those who have been oppressed, and still few have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent, and determined action.” And so strong, persistent and determined action has been promised. In a very strongly worded tweet, Tay Anderson put down a marker. “The neighbors of Stapleton have ONE WEEK to change their name ... if they do NOT we will march through their neighborhood to show them that Black Lives Matter.” My first reaction to the tone was “that’s not helpful.” That sounds like a threat. But if nice words get you nowhere, perhaps strong, persistent and determined action will get people’s attention. We are watching as more statues of treasonous confederate soldiers on the losing side of a war to enslave humans are being torn down. And now it is time for St*pleton to go. It’s past time. Even the Pentagon agrees that the names of confederates after whom military bases, like Bragg and Benning, should be changed. It is time for St*pleton to go. It’s past time. A man in Texas wrote to Dr. King to say “All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but is it possible that you are in too great of a religious hurry?” But as we know, Dr. King said, “wait almost always means never.” And so, it is time for St*pleton to go. It’s past time. But what about the history? You can’t erase history. I completely agree. My solution? Put a plaque on top of South Table Mountain with the history laid out clearly. On this spot, the KKK burned a cross in celebration of the election of Mayor St*pleton. We commit that such an atrocity shall never happen again.” Put a plague up in the offices of the Master Community Association. Put a plaque up in Founder’s Green. Put them everywhere so we don’t forget the history. But the name? It’s time to go. To Christians I share a story of Jesus. The authorities asked Jesus, “What’s your hurry?” They pointed to a woman who had formerly been bent over for 18 years. They said, “Why couldn’t she wait? It’s against the law to heal today. Do it tomorrow. It’s just one more day.” True, it had been 18 years, but that means, according to their logic, there were 5,634 previous days on which should could have been healed. But no one cared about this woman until Jesus healed her on the wrong day. (Luke 13:10-17) The tone of a tweet may be off putting, but clearly no action will be taken on the St*pleton name until someone says finally it’s enough: Now is the time to ReName St*pleton. It’s past time.
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 Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org June 14, 2020 “I Can Breathe, Therefore” Romans 5: 1-5 – New Revised Standard Version “Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. I can breathe. Such a statement makes me think of times when people can’t. For example, the way Covid 19 attacks the lungs is one of the scariest things about it. Some reports indicate that some of those who come off ventilators never regain their ability to fully breathe again. That’s one more reason to keep up the social distancing and wearing a mask in public. I have to admit that I don’t like how it feels to breathe through a mask. But, if I can save a life, therefore, I will. Why else can’t people breathe? Air pollution corresponds to asthma that leaves people unable to fully take a breath. Ironically, how many people have said their asthma has not been as bad during our shelter at home? And, of course, chokeholds and knees to the neck, when the officers applying the procedure decide to be judge, jury, and executioner all in one. Today, you and I can breathe. Say, “I can breathe.” …… But I want to be more than grateful for breath. I invite you to add one more word to that statement. “I can breathe, therefore…” At George Floyd’s funeral in Houston this week, his niece, Brooke Williams said, “I can breathe and as long as I’m breathing, justice will be served.” I can breathe, therefore. Protests around the country and around the world show no sign of stopping. They are beautiful displays of humanity yearning for a more perfect union, expressing hope in the promise of our nation, where all people, created equal in the eyes of our Creator, are truly free. I don’t know if people fully appreciate that their expressions of anger are really expressions of hope. One wouldn’t demand change if they thought change was impossible. That would be truly depressing. And the consequences would be much worse. That anger is the antidote. That anger is the antidote we have desperately needed. A cure for our collective slide into depression that nothing will save our country from the culture of cruelty cultivated by cowards, tolerated and even celebrated by too many “christians” more interested in power than piety. That anger is the antidote. That rage is the remedy. That rage is the remedy for the communal cynicism we were developing over the depths of lawlessness by our president. Thank God for rage. The medicine that will heal the mendacity of constant corruption and deceit is not hydroxychloroquine but hope and truth. Telling the truth of white supremacy is medicine that can heal our country. The very first treatment for the toxicity of America’s original and ongoing sin is to take a deep breath. To recognize that we can breathe. Say, “I can breathe.” …… We have an antidote for anger, a remedy for rage, medicine for mendacity, and a treatment for toxicity. Now, all those beautiful and hopeful protests can be turned into meaningful policies and practices that upend systems that allow or even encourage brutality. Protest is one step in the process of social change. And keeping up the pressure. Protester is one of the roles necessary for transformation. But there’s more to it than protest, which is especially important to remember because many of us would like to be on the streets but cannot. Thankfully there are plenty of possibilities for all of us who can breathe. Say, “I can breathe.” …… Deepa Iyer has written about the many roles necessary for social change,[1] one of which is the role of disruptors who speak up when its uncomfortable and take action when its risky. Not all of us can do that in the midst of a pandemic. That’s not a bad thing because it reminds us of all the other things we can do to answer our own personal “I can breathe, therefore.” We also need bridge builders who can simultaneously work across divisions with patience. Not all of us have the kind of persistence and fortitude required to change minds. This week Bob Lederer told our Touchbase Tuesday group about a group of friends he has had for 50 years, some of whom have long espoused views of the world that are offensive. Bob has always kept his tongue tied in order to keep the peace. But something one of them said about the protests crossed a line. And Bob said something. He told his long-time group of friends that he had finally had enough and that he was taking a break. But, he left the door open for reconciliation. Bob was nervous before their first conversation after his break. But before Bob could say anything, his friend offered a massive apology for what he called his egregious behavior and said, “We are better than this.” He said that he and his wife had talked about it the whole weekend. It was only because Bob said something that risked separation that a bridge could be built. Sometimes peace comes, a bridge is built, because we are honest and speak our truth instead of saying nothing. We need both disruptors and bridge builders who can work across divisions. You can breathe. What is your therefore? We need visionaries. We need visionaries who can show us our north star when others can’t even see the sky. Alicia Garza, Patrisse Khan-Cullors, and Opal Tometi simply cried out “our lives matter” after the murders of Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown. But they also began to articulate a vision. And a movement was born that became Black Lives Matter, because of their vision. But alongside, we must have people who know how to organize and mobilize resources needed for those visions of social transformation. People who have vision don’t always know how to make that vision practical. Dr. King is celebrated for having a dream. But how many people did it take for him to proclaim that on steps of the Lincoln Memorial? For every Dr. King there was a Bayard Rustin and thousands more behind the scenes. We also need artists and storytellers, poets and musicians, who sharpen that vision and imagine what else is possible. You can breathe. Is that your therefore? We also need caregivers who provide nourishment and support. Who are all those people delivering water and ice to protesters around the country? Who was in the basement of countless church kitchens cooking meals – in Birmingham, in Selma? Who brought the bandages to tend the wounds of those crossing the Edmund Pettis bridge? In addition to caregivers, we need healers who walk alongside those of us who live with the trauma of generation after generation of white supremacy, racism, capitalism, and patriarchy. Is being a caregiver or a healer your therefore? And we need builders who can develop all of these ideas into structures and the scaffolding for organizations. And whose money, whether $10 or $10,000, turns protests into movements into policies. Funny how the same thing is true for churches. But perhaps that’s not surprising. The church was born as a movement in response to the toxic collaboration of religion and state that conspired to execute Jesus. Jesus hung on a cross until he couldn’t breathe anymore. In response, out of his death, a movement of love was born. The church has seen its share of times when it had to be shocked back into alignment with the vision of the world Jesus proclaimed. The behavior of the church through centuries has sometimes required anger and rage at its injustice. Without all the roles necessary for social change, the church would stagnate and perhaps die. It needs the collective of all who can breathe working together. No movement is complete without all of us who can breathe. Say, “I can breathe.” …… I am hopeful. But it’s not just because we decide to have hope. It’s because of the suffering that produced endurance that produced character that produced hope. Paul told the Romans to boast in their hope. I’m not sure I like that. I know I don’t like that. But Paul was clear that their hope was not something they created for themselves but a gift that comes from their faith. Faith that comes from God’s love poured into us by the Spirit. The original gift of breath by God who invites us, motivates us, to play our role. May God help each of us to realize, “I can breathe, therefore.” [1] https://medium.com/@dviyer/my-role-in-a-social-change-ecosystem-a-mid-year-check-in-1d852589cdb1  Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org June 7, 2020 “Through the Fires” Proverbs 17:3 A crucible is for silver, and a furnace for gold, but God tests the heart. USA Today reported on Thursday that there have been protests in 584 cities and towns around the country and growing.[1] Hundreds of people even gathered in Grand Forks, North Dakota, the nearest “big city” to where I grew up.[2] Hundreds of people marching in Grand Forks! And in some places, the pressure of those protests is leading to policy changes – the necessary outcome. Civil rights icon John Lewis said this week that while the video of Mr. Floyd crying out "I can't breathe" brought him to tears, this ongoing movement gives him "hope that we're on our way to greater change." Why? He compared today with the protests of the 1960s, at which he was literally on the front lines, and said, "This feels and looks so different. It is so much more massive and all inclusive." We remember how Dr. King was disturbed and distressed that more white people, more white Christians, didn’t join what was such an obvious struggle. But Congressman Lewis said this time is different, noting that "people from all over the world [are] taking to the streets to stand up, to speak up, to speak out, to do,” he said, “what I call getting in trouble."[3] He is hopeful. Of course, there were unhelpful troublemakers in some of those cities. Last weekend we were very discouraged by images of violence. Dumpsters on fire, vehicles on fire, buildings on fire… Add the tear gas and rubber bullets and flash bang grenades and reporters of color arrested on live TV and clashes between police in riot gear and citizens in masks, combined with all those fires, and it looked like the apocalypse. But I wonder, like the wisdom of King Solomon’s proverb, were those fires simply the crucible needed to purify silver? Were those fires the furnace necessary to remove impurities from gold? I'm not defending the use of fire for protest. I am not glorifying it. But, I still wonder, could God use them to test our hearts? Because that violence, those fires, in particular, forced us to confront our own prejudices and priorities. Internal battles and temptations to say, “it’s horrible that an innocent black man was killed but destroying property has got to stop.” Those of you who are African American being subjected to not only one more video of a public lynching repeated again and again on a loop but having to hear endure such equivocation – I am sorry. Some of you, black and white, have talked about difficult conversations in your own families and people you thought were friends and allies in which you had to say “No. It’s horrible that property is being destroyed, but it’s the killing of innocent black men by police that has to stop.” Get your priorities right. We have to understand whose interests we ask police to protect. People or wealth and power. One example of a disconnect between people of color and white people is our experience with law enforcement. Polls like one in the Washington Post show that 82% of African American Christians believe there is a pattern of police violence against them. However, in reverse, 72% of white Christians believe these are just isolated incidents of a few bad apples. Black men like George Floyd, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Walter Scott, Marvin Booker and far too many more would beg to differ. Black women, often forgotten, and not just Sandra Bland, but Eleanor Bumpers, Alberta Spruill, Aiyana Stanley-Jones, Tanisha Anderson, Atatiana Jefferson and Charleena Lyles were all killed by officers or in police custody.[4] Were all of those officer’s racists, some of them, none of them – just a coincidence, or an unwitting part of a system of white supremacy so intertwined into the foundations of our nation we don’t even recognize them? Where do we see the effects of that white supremacy? Breonna Taylor and Amy Cooper. Breonna, an aspiring EMT in the midst of a pandemic, was killed in her sleep in her own bed in her own apartment. But Amy knew she could call the cops to protect her. Amy Cooper[5] is the white woman who was asked by a black birdwatcher in Central Park to put her dog on a leash – as is required for law and order. Perhaps she didn’t feel that such laws should apply to her, or at the least, she didn’t believe she should be subject to a black man asking her to follow the law. So, she pulled out her white female tears, as she knew she could, to alert the system that she was in danger. A white system that when it hears “black,” rushes in and assumes dangerous and guilty. It works almost every time. This time, however, the officer who responded didn’t buy her story. She lost her dog for a month, but it left Chris, the birdwatcher, devastated by, haunted by, the reality that he could have been dead that day at the hands of police because of a white woman’s tears. She should be prosecuted for a hate crime. Add to that all the citizen vigilantes, like those who killed Trayvon Martin and Ahmaud Abery, protected by prosecutors and DA’s offices. Just claim self-defense. Claim “stand your ground.” He’s got a gun. He’s resisting. Make any claim and we’ve got your back. We can’t stop the killing of innocent African American men, women, and children until we dismantle white supremacy. And that will happen when the fires of protest become changed policies. Banning chokeholds is only one very small step. But, it is hopeful. Keep up the pressure. We don’t wish for the fires of protest, but we can recognize the necessity of a crucible for silver and a furnace for gold. God tests the hearts. Though, as Dr. King said in 1963, we need to change more than hearts and minds through persuasion. He said, “The law cannot change the heart but it can restrain the heartless. The law cannot make a man love me but it can keep him from lynching me and I think that is pretty important, also.” It shouldn’t have taken cell phone videos for people to believe that racism is killing black, brown, and Indigenous people. But now that people have been awakened, I pray will they stick with it for the long haul. It makes me feel hopeful. Of course, that very same hope makes white supremacy feel threatened. So, here comes the white supremacist’s greatest friend, holding a Bible as a prop in front of a church for a campaign photo whose only purpose is to send a message – I’ve got your backs. The blatant absurdity of that display was shocking. Even to Pat Robertson. In response, some of you have read or heard a piece I wrote and posted online this week called “Thank you, Mr. Trump.” For those who haven’t seen it, I thank him because many of us were getting distracted by images of fires and looting, starting to question our commitment to justice. Equivocating. Thinking false peace would be OK in exchange for property. Thank you, Mr. Trump. You shocked us back into our mission of hope. To build a movement that coalesces people of all races around the vision of our nation that is open, inclusive, just, and compassionate. Have you seen it happening? It’s beautiful. Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Trump, for reminding us of the Kingdom of God that Jesus proclaimed – our calling. A world filled with love. With food for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, comfort for the grieving, liberation for the oppressed. Those fires may have momentarily distracted us, but now we realize they were like the crucible that is needed to remove impurities to make silver and the furnace necessary for gold. God is testing our hearts and preparing us to be ready when we are called upon to make difficult choices and take up our various roles to dismantle white supremacy and build up the beloved community. Because of coronavirus, some of us who want to join the protests can’t show up in person, But you can still use your voice on social media, You can still contribute money to causes that advance racial justice, You can still have difficult conversations with friends and family, You can still educate yourself, You can hold the feet of politicians and policy makers to the fire. But all of it starts with prayer that we are ready for the test. So let us pray: God of Justice, whenever we settle for the way things are instead of the way you would have them to be, forgive us. Whenever we are paralyzed by fear or limited in vision, increase our trust in you. Whenever we offer charity, but fail to work for justice, show us what your love requires. Whenever we forget those who have gone before us or act is if we were the first to struggle, call out our arrogance. Whenever we tire of the struggle and tomorrow feels overwhelming, restore our hope. We are your hopeful people. Amen [1] https://www.usatoday.com/in-depth/graphics/2020/06/03/map-protests-wake-george-floyds-death/5310149002/ [2] https://www.grandforksherald.com/news/6521519-Protest-winds-down-after-hundreds-march-through-downtown-Grand-Forks [3] https://www.cbsnews.com/news/george-floyd-video-death-john-lewis/ [4] https://time.com/5847970/police-brutality-black-women-girls/ [5] https://people.com/human-interest/woman-fired-after-calling-police-black-man-collar-dog/  Park Hill Congregational UCC, Denver Rev. Dr. David Bahr, Pastor June 3, 2020 I have a message this morning that may surprise many of you. I want to say thank you to Mr. Trump. Thank you, Mr. Trump, for not opening the Bible, or claiming it was yours. Thank you, Mr. Trump, for not entering the church. Thank you, Mr. Trump, for not saying a prayer. Thank you, Mr. Trump, for not saying a word of any kind. Any word of comfort you might have read from a script would have been a lie, and we’ve had enough of those. Thank you, Mr. Trump, for simply posing for pictures so they could immediately be turned into campaign ads. Thank you for making it so baldly obvious that this was just a publicity stunt for your supporters. And thank you to your supporters who applauded the move, praising you for holding up the Bible “like a boss.” Thank you for pushing away peaceful protesters with tear gas and rubber bullets. Thank you, Mr. Trump, for proving that your words about “law and order” are just dog whistles to white supremacists. While we’re at it, thank you, Mr. Trump, for insisting that churches reopen during a pandemic and then going golfing. Thank you for crystalizing all of your moments of blasphemy, your sacrilege, your disrespect for Jesus, your contempt for God, so that it momentarily unnerved even some of your supporters. Thank you. You see, many of us were getting distracted by images of looting, starting to question our commitment to justice. Equivocating. Thinking false peace would be OK in exchange for property. Thank you, Mr. Trump. You shocked us back into our mission of hope. To honor the life of George Floyd, call out the behavior of racist cops, defeat white supremacists and build a movement that coalesces people of all races around the vision of our nation that is open, inclusive, just, and compassionate. Have you seen it happen? It’s beautiful. Thank you. Thank you for reminding us of the Kingdom of God that Jesus proclaimed. A world filled with love. With food for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, comfort for the grieving, liberation for the oppressed. Thank you, Mr. Trump. We needed the kick in the pants.  Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado The Rev. Dr. David Bahr “I Can’t Breathe” May 31, 2020 Genesis 2: 7 “I can’t breathe.” But the officer with the knee on his neck didn’t do anything. He calmly and deliberately kept up the pressure. Even after he stopped breathing. For two more minutes. “I can’t breathe.” But three officers just stood and watched. They stood there and watched. All three calmly and deliberately stood there and watched. “I can’t breathe.” A 17-year-old girl calmly stood her ground. She bravely and deliberately kept filming so that no one could deny the truth. She will probably wake up from nightmares for the rest of her life, having watched the last breath leave George Floyd’s body. Gwen Carr saw the news, her breath taken away. Not again. Her son Eric Garner had repeatedly cried out the same words. “I can’t breathe.” Mr. Garner, because he sold loose cigarettes. Mr. Floyd, because he might have used a counterfeit $20 bill – perhaps to buy some Skittles and iced tea. And for that, the officer put his knee on his neck (notice the neck, just like a noose at a lynching) and listened to him cry out to his dead mama. Please help me, he cried. As the three other officers calmly and deliberately stood there and watched, George’s only hope was his dead mother. In response, the community lost its collective breath. You know how sometimes when you cry so hard you can’t breathe? You know how sometimes when you are so angry, you stop breathing. You have to be reminded – breathe! And so, once again, the community took a collective breath and went back to the streets. Shouting, “no justice, no peace.” Drawing deep breaths to make their voices heard. Demanding accountability. Black, brown, and white bodies together. It was a scene of unity. We understood that sometimes property damage comes as the “language of the unheard,” as Dr. King described. It may seem absurd. But what is absurd? A life in exchange for a $20 bill? But it escalated into something more. This is different. This is coordinated. And we realized that some of those white bodies were not there to offer support but to use the opportunity to sow further division. To trot out talking points about black anger. To justify taking the breath away from men like George Floyd. Immediately the questions came: What had he done to bring about his own death? Had he ever been in jail? And the explanations: he probably had a gun. You mean like those white men with their confederate flags with AK-47s and AR-15s strapped around their necks? He resisted arrest. Thanks to that 17-year-old girl, we know that all those excuses weren’t true. Ironically, protections against coronavirus meant masks shielded some of the faces, white faces, deliberately provoking violence – not that they were the exclusive reason for rioting and looting. But who stood to gain from the spectacle? Who could now trot out the old and tired canard about law and order? Promising vicious dogs. You mean like those who tore at the flesh of women and children in Birmingham. And promising that “when the looting begins, the shooting begins.” You mean like the promises of white supremacists in the 60s? Doesn’t it make you angry enough that you have to be reminded to breathe? Aren’t you so destroyed by your tears that you can’t breathe? If it doesn’t, if you can read this without crying, if you can read this without rage, you aren’t paying attention. You haven’t paid attention for years and years and decades and centuries of this same violence playing over and over like a loop. But I believe that you do care. Perhaps feeling paralyzed. Uncertain. Afraid. What can we possibly do? We can recognize that this is all about protecting whiteness. White supremacy is not men and women parading around in white robes but the very system upon which our country was built. Our wealth, handed down for generations, includes the profits made off the backs of slaves. Wealth has been passed down because our mothers could buy houses on the desired side of the red line. Our wealth includes the education our families were afforded in segregated schools. Jobs, education, access to capital – though it may have been decades ago – means white wealth is many times more than black wealth. We can stop saying, “I’m not racist.” If we aren’t anti-racist, we perpetuate the problem. How? Figure it out. We can keep saying the names. Like we read the names of those who perished on September 11th, we can keep reciting the names of Ahmaud Arbery and Breona Taylor and George Floyd – just those we know about in the last few weeks. We can build a new Vietnam War style memorial to stretch the distance of the mall in Washington DC, to remember the names of Sandra Bland and Walter Scott and Tamir Rice and Michael Brown and thousands more. We can vote. And make sure that every citizen in the country, at every level of government, votes to end systems that perpetuate violence against people of color, whether through mass incarceration or unequal access to health care – both of which are killing people with coronavirus at disturbingly unequal rates. And we can pray. Pray to the Creator who put breath into the first human being. The second creation story in the Book of Genesis says, “The Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of fertile land and blew life’s breath into their nostrils.” You know how sometimes when you cry so hard you can’t breathe? You know how sometimes when you are so angry, you stop breathing. Sometimes we have to be reminded – breathe! Which simply means, “pray!” Return to the source of breath. I can’t fully breathe, I can’t take a deep enough breath, if I don’t return often enough to prayer and meditation and worship. Worship that is not about getting into heaven but participating in God’s open, inclusive, just, and compassionate kingdom here on earth, as it is in heaven. Breathe! Because breath itself is a gift of the one who gave us life and sustains our lives. Take a breath. And get into the struggle.  Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org May 31, 2020 “Park Hill 2.0” Note - I wrote a second sermon for the day addressing the murder of George Floyd. Below is the sermon I preached for our pre-recorded service for the day. My other sermon is entitled "I Can't Breathe" Isaiah 43: 18-19 Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. 19 I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. I wanted to share my sermon from up here in the mountains today to physically manifest what we have learned in the past two months. Wait, has it been two months? Actually, I went back and counted on the calendar and we’ve been worshiping this way for 12 weeks! Three months. But it’s felt like, what, an entire year? And tomorrow is June, but I still feel like I was just getting used to it being April. Well, anyway, I wanted to share my message from up here to demonstrate what we always knew but never really had to practice. Church can happen anywhere. There’s a popular saying: Be the Church. Don’t Go to Church. Thirteen weeks ago, that’s all it was. A slogan. But what have we discovered? Church can happen anywhere. Church is what happens in our lives. Church is putting our actions in alignment with our faith convictions. We can be anywhere to practice love, compassion, forgiveness, patience, gentleness, bold acts of justice, generosity. Christianity is too little if it’s only about showing up on Sundays. Don’t get me wrong. I need my church community. I need worship. It’s what gets me back on track when my practice of love and compassion has grown thin. But is there more than one way of being church? If I asked you 13 weeks ago, is online church real, what would you have said? You may be watching right now and still have the same question. Is this real? I’ve been reading as many blogs and articles as I can and watching webinars about being a congregation that isn’t meeting in person for worship. We adapted to this interruption as fast as we could. But few us of have welcomed this disruption. Few?!! No one has welcomed this disruption. Until now. Until I realized God is in here somewhere “doing a new thing.” Until I realized this is our Pentecost. Let’s recap where we have been. We started our separation from each other mid-way through Lent while Jesus and his followers were on the move toward the final confrontation in Jerusalem.
I feel like I encountered that same Spirit on Thursday, May 14th. But, for me, the Spirit has never been very wild. I identify more with the Elijah who stood at the entrance of a cave waiting for God to pass by. You may know the story: “There was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then a [quiet] voice came to him and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” It was in that kind of quietness of listening and writing notes during a webinar that I heard a question the presenter hadn’t asked. It actually wasn’t a question, but it prompted questions. I heard the presenter say, “Don’t miss what God is handing us.” To be clear, God didn’t hand the world a pandemic. But, as Tony Morgan said, God is handing us an opportunity. He described the church as “fortunate.” Because under no other circumstance would the church as we know it, as we have known it to be our entire lives; under no other circumstance would we have been as fortunate to come to a complete standstill, allowing us to question who we are and what being a church means. In that moment, with that turn of phrase, I felt the Spirit. And ever since, I am more optimistic about the future of the church than perhaps I have ever been. More optimistic. More energized. Again, I do not wish the effects of this devastating pandemic on anyone. The economic pain and loss of life. This is not a good thing. But, theologically, we always look for redemption. Not, how can we dismiss our grief? Not, how can we minimize our loss or forget what’s going on in the world. But, the Spirit asks you quietly, what are you doing here to redeem this tragedy? In my humble opinion, too many churches are rushing back into their buildings; rushing back before the Spirit arrived on Pentecost. They are focused on “What do we need to do so we can go back to being church again?” But that’s the wrong question. Well, I don’t want to judge it as necessarily “wrong,” but, at least for me, the Spirit prompted a different question. To change the narrative. Whenever it is that we return to in person worship, how can we keep including people who have started worshiping with us in the past 12 weeks? We can’t turn our backs on them and walk away. So, what would that take? Never has the church been as accessible as we are right now. Laura Harris has said many times that through our mid-week Zoom calls, she feels more connected to people in the church now than ever before. This is a gift. People are reaching out to one another. Never have we had as much opportunity to innovate as we have right now. Sure, we are missing a lot. Physical human interactions. Singing. Cookies and marshmallow squares made by Inez. But people may not realize that if we began meeting again next week, we wouldn’t be able to hug. We wouldn’t see each other’s smiles behind our masks. Singing is dangerous – so, until there’s a vaccine, no congregational singing, no choir. And no lingering over coffee and marshmallow squares. In one door and out another – six feet apart. Kind of depressing. Frankly, our coming back to church too soon will be painful in a whole other way and induce a whole other level of grief and loss. So, how can we change that narrative? It’s in the questions. Not in what we can’t have but on what we can. What Spirit-filled redemptive opportunity have we been fortunate enough to have handed to us? So says the Lord: “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a new way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.” The Governance Team has decided we are not returning to in person worship any sooner than the first Sunday after Labor Day. And maybe not then either, but at least, so we all know it, no sooner than then. But, in the meantime, we are not going to sit around waiting. God is busy working on a new thing. So are we. We are announcing the launch of Park Hill 2.0. It is our intention to become a fully local and digital church. We are not going back to just who we were. There was nothing wrong with it, but something more “is springing forth, do you not perceive it?” We want anyone worshiping with us now from around the country or even around the globe to continue. But not just to watch. We want you to be fully engaged in the ministry of the church. Anyone who wishes to be included and involved. That has lots of implications. There is a lot to figure out. But our goal is use the summer to prepare for the launch of Park Hill 2.0 on what would normally be our Homecoming Sunday in September. It’s going to take you helping to answer lots of questions, like:
I can’t answer these questions. We have to answer these questions. And so, I invite you into this process of figuring it all out. Listening to the Spirit. Will you say yes? Not to abandon who we were, not to leave anyone behind, but to be more, adding more love and compassion, and to include more. I invite you to say yes. To come aboard this new venture. Type “count me in” in the comments section. Say yes. Offer your ideas. Offer your help. Type your questions, send me emails. Realize how fortunate we are to have this opportunity handed to us to be more than we could have ever dreamed about or even imagined just 13 weeks ago.  Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org May 10, 2020 “The Economy, Freedom, and Whiteness: Worthless Idols” Psalm 31 – Common English Bible See the whole Psalm at the end I take refuge in you, Lord. Please never let me be put to shame. Rescue me by your righteousness! 2 Listen closely to me! Deliver me quickly; be a rock that protects me; be a strong fortress that saves me! 3 You are definitely my rock and my fortress. Guide me and lead me for the sake of your good name! 4 Get me out of this net that’s been set for me because you are my protective fortress. 5 I entrust my spirit into your hands; you, Lord, God of faithfulness-- you have saved me. 15 My future is in your hands. Don’t hand me over to my enemies, to all who are out to get me! 16 Shine your face on your servant; save me by your faithful love! That’s nice. No disrespect meant for the Word of God, but after reading that scripture passage, my response is “That’s nice.” The lectionary committee did a good job of choosing a nice easy psalm for the 5th Sunday after Easter in Year A. They’re the group decades ago, across a wide array of denominations, who decided our 3-year cycle of readings – always a gospel reading, always a New Testament Letter, always an Old Testament (or Hebrew Scripture) reading, and always a Psalm. Psalm 31 for today is nice. But they chose the absolute least interesting part of the Psalm. We heard verses one through five before it skips to verse 15. I guess they skipped over verse 6 because it isn’t very nice. It says, “I hate.” “I hate those who embrace what is completely worthless.” That’s not nice. But, if we’re honest, that’s real. How many times a day in Trump’s America is that the God-honest truth. This Psalm attributed to King David sounds bleak: 11 I’m a joke to all my enemies, I scare my friends, and whoever sees me in the street runs away! 12 I am forgotten, like I’m dead, completely out of mind; I am like a piece of pottery, [broken and] destroyed. We could say, “Well, he doesn’t really hate. He’s just depressed.” In fact, in verse 9 he actually said, “Have mercy on me, Lord, because I’m depressed. My vision fails because of my grief,” We could say, he’s just depressed. Or, “He doesn’t really hate people. He just hates what people are doing. Or what they stand for. Or something like that. That’s what you should hate.” But why must we insist on controlling what people feel? I’m totally guilty of that. Just this week I told someone, “You don’t hate so and so. You really just hate what they are doing to everything you hold dear.” …I apologize for diminishing your grief. If what you feel is hate, you can feel what you feel because whether or not it’s nice, it’s real. And if someone says, “That’s not very Christian of you,” you can reply, “I’m just quoting the Bible. Psalm 31, verse 6, ‘I hate those who embrace what is completely worthless.’” Of course, then we must ask, what is worthless? Eugene Peterson often makes things really simple. His translation in The Message is, “I hate all this silly religion.” Silly, yes, but the truth is, more than silly, there’s a lot of dangerous religion out there. For example, preachers willing to endanger congregants, telling them to trust in the healing power of God and downplaying the power of the virus to kill. And spread. And spread. Psalm 31 has something to say in response, in verses 17 and 18, which the lectionary committee also left out. Maybe because it’s also not very nice: Let the wicked be put to shame; Let their lying lips be shut up whenever they speak arrogantly against the righteous with pride and contempt! Or, as The Message simplifies it: “Gag those loudmouthed liars. Sometimes the Psalms are like mood swings, just like Psalm 31 which is not afraid to name hate and depression, but also swings with us between hate and love, depression and trust. Back to the question of what is worthless. Eugene Peterson speaks of silly religion. The New Revised Standard Version speaks of worthless idols. As long as we don’t limit idols to little statues or golden calves, thinking in terms of worthless idols might actually help us make sense of our world. What are some obvious worthless idols right now? How about the economy, freedom, and whiteness? Earlier this week, the president pleaded for Americans to think of themselves as ‘warriors’ in his bid to ‘reopen’ the country. (Militarism is another one of those idols.) Like war, he said, there will be more deaths. But those deaths are justified for the sake of The Economy. Rev. Graham Ashcroft from Pray the Resistance said, “Let that sink in. Trump is not debating that because of relaxed social distancing an estimated 134,000 people will die by August. He’s not denying it. He’s justifying those deaths as a sacrifice for The Economy.”[1] A train conductor agrees. Sujatha Gidra wrote in the New York Times this week that she isn’t an essential worker. She’s a sacrificial worker.[2] She’s had a hundred fellow co-workers in the New York transit system die “in the line of duty.” Sacrificial, just like all those meat packing workers. We don’t have enough swabs for testing but by God, speed up the chicken nuggets. Sacrificial, like restaurant servers in Texas told they can’t wear masks because it would frighten customers. Risk your health or lose your right to unemployment. Rev. Ashcroft asked, “Why would Trump take this risk? Because he believes white [Christian] America will buy it.” It’s strategic. He is trying to “normalize further catastrophic death because he now knows most of that death will not be white.” Yes, the evidence proves that white America is not experiencing COVID at the same level as people of color. You know who else knows it? The anti-maskers. Those mobs of gun toting “freedom for me, not you” know it. Someone said this week that the old KKK didn’t mind wearing masks. Why not their children? Busy throwing tantrums, vandalizing the health department, threatening public health workers with “civil war”? For those who don’t live in Colorado, that’s been our reality this week.[3] Rev. Ashcroft concluded, “Trump has reasoned that white Christians didn’t have a problem when enslaved black people died to build the economy. Why not let black and brown people die of COVID to reopen it?”[4] “I hate those who embrace what is completely worthless.” It’s OK, though. The Bible tells me so. Verse 6 of Psalm 31. We can hate “worthless idols.” Or silly religion. But let’s make sure we understand. This is not an excuse to hate. It’s not a rationale for hatred. This is not a virtue, or a way of life dedicated to hate. This is a sane reaction to the insanity of living in Trump’s America. And then we breathe. To be clear, I don’t hate the economy, freedom, or being white. But they are worthless idols. Compare them to protecting life, public heath, and our gloriously rich shared humanity. Pursuing those things are what give value to our life. That’s what brings worth to the world. That’s what I hope for. I hope for vibrant life and health for our whole human family. The God-honest truth is that not all of the emotions we feel every day are nice. I appreciate that Psalm 31 doesn’t judge us. It simply allows us name hate as an understandable emotion. A sane reaction to the insanity. But again, hate is not a virtue nor an excuse and not a rationale for more. It doesn’t lead to actions of hatred or justify vigilantism. I don’t have enough time to express my rage over the death of Ahmaud Arbery – killed because of that worthless idol of whiteness by “freedom loving” cowards – and covered up by a state built on the backs of slaves. Because whiteness doesn’t allow for jogging without suspicion.
This fills me with so much grief. The Psalmist said, “I hate those who embrace what is completely worthless.” And then, in the same verse, said “I myself trust the Lord.” What? In the same verse, he said, I hate and I trust. And then continues, “I rejoice and celebrate in your faithful love.” Before going back to depression and gagging loudmouthed liars. Feel confused? That’s grief. I understand. Competing and complex emotions. But naming a feeling isn’t the same as embracing that feeling. Again, in the same verse the Psalmist spoke of both hate and trust and went on to choose love. “I rejoice and celebrate in your faithful love.” I feel pity for those who embrace false idols. Bigots and narcissists are a pitiful bunch. But I don’t want to join their pity party. Will you join me to choose the worth of human lives and a greater purpose to protect lives? (Say yes) Will you join me to choose love for the Common Good and joy in public health? (Say yes) Will you join me to revel and celebrate our gloriously rich shared humanity – of every nation, every race, every language, every… everything. (Say yes) And bring worth to the world. I trust that light will defeat the shadows. Goodness will defeat evil. Love will defeat hate. (Yes?) The very last line of Psalm 31 is “Be strong and let your heart take courage.” Amen Psalm 31 in full: I take refuge in you, Lord. Please never let me be put to shame. Rescue me by your righteousness! 2 Listen closely to me! Deliver me quickly; be a rock that protects me; be a strong fortress that saves me! 3 You are definitely my rock and my fortress. Guide me and lead me for the sake of your good name! 4 Get me out of this net that’s been set for me because you are my protective fortress. 5 I entrust my spirit into your hands; you, Lord, God of faithfulness-- you have saved me. 6 I hate those who embrace what is completely worthless. I myself trust the Lord. 7 I rejoice and celebrate in your faithful love because you saw my suffering-- you were intimately acquainted with my deep distress. 8 You didn’t hand me over to the enemy, but set my feet in wide-open spaces. 9 Have mercy on me, Lord, because I’m depressed. My vision fails because of my grief, as do my spirit and my body. 10 My life is consumed with sadness; my years are consumed with groaning. Strength fails me because of my suffering; my bones dry up. 11 I’m a joke to all my enemies, still worse to my neighbors. I scare my friends, and whoever sees me in the street runs away! 12 I am forgotten, like I’m dead, completely out of mind; I am like a piece of pottery, destroyed. 13 Yes, I’ve heard all the gossiping, terror all around; so many gang up together against me, they plan to take my life! 14 But me? I trust you, Lord! I affirm, “You are my God.” 15 My future is in your hands. Don’t hand me over to my enemies, to all who are out to get me! 16 Shine your face on your servant; save me by your faithful love! 17 Lord, don’t let me be put to shame because I have cried out to you. Let the wicked be put to shame; let them be silenced in death’s domain! 18 Let their lying lips be shut up whenever they speak arrogantly against the righteous with pride and contempt! 19 How great is the goodness that you’ve reserved for those who honor you, that you commit to those who take refuge in you-- in the sight of everyone! 20 You hide them in the shelter of your wings, safe from human scheming. You conceal them in a shelter, safe from accusing tongues. 21 Bless the Lord, because he has wondrously revealed his faithful love to me when I was like a city under siege! 22 When I was panicked, I said, “I’m cut off from your eyes!” But you heard my request for mercy when I cried out to you for help. 23 All you who are faithful, love the Lord! The Lord protects those who are loyal, but he pays the proud back to the fullest degree. 24 All you who wait for the Lord, be strong and let your heart take courage. [1] https://mailchi.mp/30436f4885fd/knowing-black-americans-will-suffer-the-most-trump-tries-to-militarize-the-pandemic?e=ea7850c69f [2] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/05/opinion/coronavirus-nyc-subway.html [3] https://www.denverpost.com/2020/05/06/tri-county-health-threat-coronavirus-covid/ [4] Ashcroft  Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org May 3, 2020 “What Do You Want?” Psalm 23 – Common English Bible The Lord is my shepherd. I lack nothing. 2 He lets me rest in grassy meadows; he leads me to restful waters; 3 he keeps me alive. He guides me in proper paths for the sake of his good name. 4 Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no danger because you are with me. Your rod and your staff-- they protect me. 5 You set a table for me right in front of my enemies. You bathe my head in oil; my cup is so full it spills over! 6 Yes, goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the Lord’s house as long as I live. There are two types of people in most churches. Ones who want Psalm 23 read at their memorial service. And ones who say, “please, please do not read Psalm 23.” People either think it’s so overused that the words have lost their meaning or that it’s so familiar, the words flow without having to think. And that’s ritual at its best. Not rote memorization but when the words are written on our heart. It was probably no surprise that on the very first Sunday of this pandemic, I read, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall not fear.” I’m grateful that Psalm 23 provides such comforting words when the life of a loved one ends. But at its best, it’s really about how to live. In fact, Larry Ricketts, at our Lunch and Lectionary on Thursday, suggested that Psalm 23 should be read at every baptism. The group agreed that this is the best distillation of our faith: to be realistic about the dangers in life and that we have a comforter. What do you think about when you hear Psalm 23? Today we could think of it in the context of nearly 200 dead in Denver, 800 in Colorado, 65,000 in the United States, and 234,000 people dead from Covid 19 around the world. And likely many thousands more under-reported. God rest their souls. May they live forever in peace. We are grateful to know that when each of them walked through their valley of the shadow of death, they were not, and are not, alone. But I want to think about Psalm 23 in the context of the living – that is, living today while we are sheltered in place. Let’s look at the very first line from the translation we read this morning in the Common English Bible: “The Lord is my shepherd. I lack nothing.” A good definitive statement. Straight-forward. As long as we have some toilet paper in the closet and some hamburger meat in the freezer, most of us are pretty good. But that line – “I lack nothing” – doesn’t sing. I don’t love it. It doesn’t tug at my heartstrings and doesn’t capture my imagination. It doesn’t roll off the lips like the King’s English, “I shall not want.” Plus, in the midst of a pandemic, to say “I shall not want” isn’t true. I want lots of things. I want you to be here with me. I want human contact. I want to breathe without the smell of cotton and fogged up glasses. I know a lot of grandparents who desperately want to hold their grandchildren and give them kisses and tussle their hair. I know a lot of parents who desperately want to get their children out of their hair and back to school. To say, “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want?” That’s not true. I want a lot of things. A lot of good, righteous, and holy things. I want people to be able to go back to work so they can earn a living and take care of their families. But I also want it to be safe for them and people who are most vulnerable. I want a vaccine. I also don’t want to waste this opportunity to create a different kind of world, instead of going back to what may have been normal for us but was full of terror for others. Psalm 23 might help us think through creating a new normal. What do you want right now that is meaningful and adds value to your life and to the world? What do you want right now that is shallow and takes value from your life; that takes value from the world? The American economy depends on us wanting things. My apologies to small business owners and manufacturers and shipping companies and everyone involved in the supply chain, but we needed a pause to our addiction. To detox from our addiction to wanting. Prior to the pandemic, 70% of our gross domestic product was consumer spending, significantly higher than other industrialized nations – a combination of needs and a lot of wants. How much of what we wanted did we need? Well now, after some experience of sheltering in place, we may have a better idea. Amazon has fulfilled some of those desires, requiring warehouse workers and delivery people to put their personal lives at risk to satisfy our addiction to wanting. But shopping online lacks the satisfaction of wandering up and down the aisles to see what flirts with us, tries to catch our attention, wants us to take it home. New stuff, better looking stuff. Renowned biblical scholar, Walter Brueggemann said, “most of our wants are contrived and imaginary and phony. And driven by the notion that we are entitled to it.” Yes, how often do we fall for marketers doing a great job of making us aware of what we don’t have or that what we have isn’t good enough anymore. And who offer an easy fix: want more and buy more. What happens when we can’t? Now we know. Not because we can’t afford it but because, well, you know. We can’t leave the house. There’s either going to be a huge surge in spending to meet our pent-up demand or a realization: we didn’t need what we couldn’t have. And that was a good thing. And, it can still be a good thing once we have a choice again. That’s one of those side benefits of The Great Pause I spoke of last week. Just be aware that there will soon be a relentless onslaught for us to “help” the economy. Luring us back to an addition to wanting. But, as we emerge from our shelter, as you come out of the Pause, when you see that newer and nicer version of what you already have, remember the mantra from Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.” Or, “I lack nothing.” In this case, both translations work very well. One commentary writer had a great sermon idea to have people take out a sheet of paper and make two columns. On one side, list ten things you want. On the other side, list ten things you have. Ten things you are grateful you have. And then ask, which would have a greater impact. Losing all the things you have or gaining all the things you want? But I don’t know, that may have been a good idea 10 years ago (or 3 months ago), but is that really what we are struggling with today? I have my doubts that what we write down on our “I want” column would involve new clothes and going to the movies again. What do you want? Other than a haircut, I bet it’s mostly about relationships. And wanting people to live. No one wants anyone to have to walk through the valley of the shadow of death in order to make a living. We don’t need meat that badly. On my “want list,” I want the Vice President, the official head of the national coronavirus task force, to wear a mask into a hospital. To demonstrate intelligence and show some (damn) respect to health care workers. I want the president to stop talking. And stop tweeting and stop threatening and stop blaming. Just stop. Of course, I have no control over that, except the power to vote – a power, I have to remember, that people in many countries don’t have, who are living under dictators who can successfully manipulate the pandemic into more power and money for themselves. I want all the things I mentioned before. To be here together with you. Hugs. Fog-less glasses. But, I also really want to know what to expect next. Good or bad, what to do. Not so much about the virus or when we’ll have a vaccine, but I want to know what’s expected of me. What is expected of the church and each other during this in between time. It’s similar but not exactly the same as what I said last week about wanting to know what our new normal will be. Here we are, stuck in between an end and a beginning. Knowing what’s expected of us would help answer the question: What should we be doing? Some of the things we did as a church just two months ago, without giving them a single thought, have ended. They are done. At least for the time being. Or is even saying that setting an unrealistic expectation? Can we promise that anything will be “normal” again? See how difficult this is? It doesn’t matter, however, because no matter how much I want it, we ultimately don’t and can’t know what to expect. Except that, The Lord is our shepherd. And we shall not want. We ultimately don’t and can’t know what to expect, Except that, The Lord makes us to lie down in green pastures and leads us beside still waters. We ultimately don’t and can’t know what to expect, Except that, The Lord restores our souls and leads us in the paths of righteousness. And so therefore, can you say it with me, Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil: for thou art with us; thy rod and thy staff they comfort us. We ultimately don’t and can’t know what to expect. Except we know that, You prepare a table before us in the presence of our enemies and anoint our heads with oil. And our cups runneth over. What can we expect? That Surely goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives; and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Or, the one line I really like from the newer translation: “Goodness and faithful love” won’t just follow us but God will “pursue us all the days of our lives.” And what more could we want? Yes, I’ll be honest – I still want more certainty. I want to know what I’m supposed to be doing. But what do I need? To trust our shepherd, who has always provided for us everything we need. What do we need? To trust our shepherd, who has never left us alone and will never lead us astray. What do we need? To trust the leading and guiding of the shepherd in this difficult in between space – knowing that some things have ended and other things will begin. And that’s OK. It’s just not for us to know yet what that is. We can’t make it happen by being busier or more innovative. And so, we can only learn to trust. A future that only God knows. And only God holds. But a future indeed. Is Psalm 23 about death or is it about life? Is it morbid or is it hopeful? On a more practical note, do you want it read at your funeral or not? Just make sure your family knows. And why.  Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org April 26, 2020 “Grieving Normal” Luke 24:13-35 – Common English Bible On that same day, two disciples were traveling to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. 14 They were talking to each other about everything that had happened. 15 While they were discussing these things, Jesus himself arrived and joined them on their journey. 16 They were prevented from recognizing him. 17 He said to them, “What are you talking about as you walk along?” They stopped, their faces downcast. 18 The one named Cleopas replied, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who is unaware of the things that have taken place there over the last few days?” 19 He said to them, “What things?” They said to him, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth. Because of his powerful deeds and words, he was recognized by God and all the people as a prophet. 20 But our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. 21 We had hoped he was the one who would redeem Israel. All these things happened three days ago. 22 But there’s more: Some women from our group have left us stunned. They went to the tomb early this morning 23 and didn’t find his body. They came to us saying that they had even seen a vision of angels who told them he is alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women said. They didn’t see him.” 25 Then Jesus said to them, “You foolish people! Your dull minds keep you from believing all that the prophets talked about. 26 Wasn’t it necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27 Then he interpreted for them the things written about himself in all the scriptures, starting with Moses and going through all the Prophets. 28 When they came to Emmaus, he acted as if he was going on ahead. 29 But they urged him, saying, “Stay with us. It’s nearly evening, and the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. 30 After he took his seat at the table with them, he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he disappeared from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Weren’t our hearts on fire when he spoke to us along the road and when he explained the scriptures for us?” 33 They got up right then and returned to Jerusalem. They found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying to each other, “The Lord really has risen! He appeared to Simon!” 35 Then the two disciples described what had happened along the road and how Jesus was made known to them as he broke the bread. A little boy packed a lunch and decided to go on a journey by himself longer than he had ever been on before. It was the day after his grandmother died. For this extra-long trip he packed a larger than usual lunch – four packs of Twinkies and two cans of root beer. He walked by himself to a park at least four blocks beyond where he had ever gone alone. He took a seat on a bench where an older woman was already sitting. Together, they watched the pigeons. After a while, he took out a pack of Twinkies. As he was eating, he glanced over at the woman and offered her one. She gave him a big smile and accepted it gratefully. He thought she had the most beautiful smile in the world and wanted to see it again, so he offered her a can of root beer. Once again, she gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. For a long while, the two of them simply sat together on that park bench eating Twinkies, sipping on their root beer, and watching the pigeons. Neither said a word. Finally, the boy realized it was getting late and he should be on his way home. He took a few steps and then turned back and gave the woman a big hug. Her smile was bigger and brighter than ever. His mother had started to worry, so she was relieved to see him walk back in the house. She also noticed his mood had changed. “What did you do today?” she asked. “Oh, I had lunch in the park… with God.” Before she could reply, he added, “And you know what? She has the most beautiful smile in the world!” Meanwhile the woman arrived back home – or rather, at her son’s home. Her husband had died recently, and she had moved in with him and his family. It was the first time in a long time that her son had seen her smile. He asked, “What did you do today, mom?” “Oh, I ate Twinkies and drank root beer in the park… with God. And you know what? God’s a lot younger than I ever imagined.” I suspect encounters like this are much more common than we think. I mean, I suspect – I’m sure – we meet God a lot more often than we would ever imagine. We just may not have noticed very much during ordinary times – swallowed up by schedules that actually controlled us. Work and sitting in traffic, school and homework and lessons and sports, shopping and work outs, volunteer obligations and ski weekends. God has always been present. And yet, consumed by our busy lives, we may have failed to notice. In fact, so certain of being in control of our own normal, we may have felt little need. Things are definitely different today. All of us are living with a collective sense of loss. Whether normal was good or bad, we miss “normal.” Perhaps some patience and good will too. We may be missing things we never even had. Missing things we didn’t even know were “a thing.” Like smiles now hidden by masks. Hugs. Man, do I miss hugs. Heck, I’d even settle for a good old handshake. And regular routines. Who ever thought routines were “a thing” we could miss? That’s grief. And it’s normal. We are all grieving normal. Not that normal was always so great. Some of it was horrible. We have come to think it’s normal that when the president speaks, half of it will be a lie and half of it will be cruel – interspersed with absurd moments about injecting disinfectants that leave us speechless. Even for this guy, that’s not normal. It’s not normal to have a president like this, but we have come to believe it is normal when he parrots white supremacy and calls them good people. It is normal that he will look for every opportunity possible to make money off the presidency – even hawking dangerous drug therapies. And it is normal that we don’t know how to handle this. Should we be perpetually angry? Taking to the streets? Should we simply turn off the news and wait until November 4th to hear how it all worked out? There is some good news in all of this, however. We may be open to changes we would never have been before. Jeremy referenced an article on Friday that has been making the rounds for a few weeks entitled Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting. The author said, “What has happened to us is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views.” The Great Pause. He asks under what other circumstance would our lives come to a complete standstill and give us a wide-open view of the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful, how we live wastefully and wonderfully. But, he cautioned, we better hurry up and decide what we want to keep and what we want to get rid of because before we are ready, marketers will flood the airwaves with their ideas of what we can buy to make our lives feel normal again. To even make us to forget the promise of the Great Pause. The opportunity is now. Like never before. Except, that’s a lot to ask of people experiencing collective loss. It’s hard to make decisions while you are grieving. The article is a seriously good read. I will caution that it is full of middle-class privilege. Not everyone has the opportunity to make significant changes in their lives. Even so, take the time to check it out. I’ve put a link on our social media. And, I see this promise in the church, too. The church can never only be what we were. We have the unique opportunity to pause so we can choose what we add back to our normal life as a congregation. But, grief alert. Some of what used to be normal will not be part of our new normal –because we will have no choice. Yet, some good news, because of all this loss and upheaval, we are looking. Searching, perhaps like never before. Seriously looking for hope. And meaning. And depth. Connections and real relationships. We are looking for encouragement. And God. We are looking… Today’s scripture invites us to ask what, if anything, prevents us from seeing. Why were the disciples on the road to Emmaus “prevented” from recognizing Jesus? Edward Hayes, author of Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim, offers another version of the Emmaus story. His story goes like this: “On the first day of the week, the apostles Peter, James, and John, were afraid they would be arrested next, so they fled from Jerusalem for their safety. At sunset, they stopped at a small inn along the road, at the edge of Emmaus, for something to eat. They slipped in quietly and took their seats in a dark corner. They spoke in hushed voices about the death of their Master, discussing all the things that had happened in just a couple of days. And how they had hoped he was the one who would liberate their people. A Greek slave woman came over to their table and poured wine into their cups. She asked, “Why are you men so sad? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.” Peter replied impatiently, “Woman, we have, but that’s no business of yours. Go and do your work.” “Sir,” she replied, “I too know the pain of a broken heart; I too know the great pain of losing a dear friend. But death is not the end of love.” And then, to their surprise, she took one of those wine-filled wooden cups and pronounced a blessing over it and said, “Take and drink, this is…” John jumped to his feet, “Master!” In an instant, the woman vanished from their eyes. I have always loved this story of the encounter between Jesus and the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Although today, I immediately want to know if they were walking six feet apart. And did Jesus use hand sanitizer before breaking the bread? They walked together for about three miles, talking through their grief. Jesus had just been executed on Friday. The next day was Sabbath. On Sunday morning the women disciples discovered an open tomb. Dazed and unbelieving, this was their first opportunity to walk back home. When they arrived at the edge of town, they invited the stranger who had been accompanying them to eat with them. It was in their offer of hospitality that Jesus was “made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” I don’t know why they may have been prevented from understanding before. Was there some divine purpose? Was it the fog of grief? But clearly words weren’t enough. And I can appreciate that. When my mind wanders, when I’m distracted, uninterested, unmotivated, there are moments of grace. For example, the taste of communion bread can surprise our dulled senses with a word of God’s grace; a sacrament that says, “I’m here with you.” There’s no need to understand it. Janet Weiblen said, “It’s a gift, when we see; never a demand to see. The fact that Jesus disappears as soon as the disciples recognize him is a reminder that God’s presence is always dancing at the edge of awareness and perception.” At the edge, and always there. But just know that, if you can’t see it, if you can’t feel it, if you can’t taste it, or you can’t believe it right now, it’s normal. It’s OK. And I’m right there with you. Me too. Like with any grief, sometimes I bounce back and forth between hope and anger and acceptance several times a day. Jeremy described our times as living with spiritual whiplash. Yes, these times are full of promise. The Great Pause is a real thing. Yet that doesn’t make us any less full of loss and a longing for normal. And impatient to know when we finally are going to get to a place we can call normal. When will our new normal get here? Whether it’s good or bad, I can’t help but want it to get here sooner than later. But, bottom line, whether our lives are on a Great Pause or as boring as ever, Jesus walks alongside us. Surprising us with moments of grace. Not bright flashes of light. But something as simple as sitting on a park bench, eating Twinkies, sipping root beer… with God.  Photo by Sarah Crossan from Resurrecting Jesus
Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr pastor@parkhillchurch.org April 19, 2020 “Go to Hell” John 20: 19-31 – Common English Bible It was still the first day of the week. That evening, while the disciples were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” 20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with joy. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” 22 Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.” Jesus appears to Thomas and the disciples 24 Thomas, the one called Didymus,[a] one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. 25 The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!” But he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.” 26 After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!” 28 Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!” 29 Jesus replied, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.” 30 Then Jesus did many other miraculous signs in his disciples’ presence, signs that aren’t recorded in this scroll. 31 But these things are written so that you will believe that Jesus is the Christ, God’s Son, and that believing, you will have life in his name. Happy Easter! Today is Easter day for Eastern Orthodox Christians. So, we say “Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!” And then ask, why. Why are our Easters on different days – although, to add a twist, on rare occasions, sometimes they are on the same day – like in 2017 and again in 2034. For the first 300 years of Christianity, there was no set date for Easter. Churches could celebrate the resurrection any day they wanted. In 325, the Council of Nicaea sought to bring some uniformity and decided that: Easter is on the first Sunday that occurs after the first full moon after the vernal equinox, but also, always, and only, after Passover. Did you follow that? To avoid any confusion, the vernal equinox was set as March 21. This system would guarantee that all churches would forever celebrate Easter together on the same day.[1] Except that in the year 1054, an event called “The Great Schism” split Christianity into eastern and western churches – Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic. That’s a whole other story. And the reason for the great schism is different depending on who is telling that story. Suffice it to say, in the 1500s, the Western Church started following the Gregorian calendar while the East stayed on the Julian calendar. Plus, the Western church decided that Easter didn’t have to follow Passover. And forevermore, except occasionally! we don’t celebrate Easter together on the same day. Got it? But, no matter how we got here, the point is, last Sunday we proclaimed “Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!” And today, Eastern Orthodox Christians are proclaiming “Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!” Except that in some Orthodox Christian communities they add a third phrase. “Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! I can see him in your face.”[2] Interesting. Interesting, but more importantly, what it means that Christ is risen is fundamentally different. Like, totally different. I had never really paid attention to that “detail” until last year when Terri and I and Kat Gaskins attended a lecture series by John Dominic Crossan at the annual meeting of the UCC Rocky Mountain Conference. He noted the big distinction:[3] Western churches depict the resurrection as something that happened to Jesus as an individual. Eastern churches depict a universal resurrection of Jesus, an act that involves all of humanity, all the way back to Adam and Eve. We might think of western Christians as more of a “me and Jesus” kind of thing. Or, more to the point, “Jesus saved me. To hell with the rest of you.” Maybe that’s a little extreme – hyperbole – but it points to a big difference. Broadly speaking, in the west, faith is more often about the individual. In the east, demonstrated in part by the difference in beliefs about resurrection, faith is about the community. The gospels tell lots of stories about the events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus; they describe every little detail about the crucifixion itself and then the women walking with their spices to the tomb, all their encounters with angels, or was it the gardener? Different names, different details… oh well, but, at least, they still are details. Indeed, stories like Jesus inviting Thomas to touch the nail holes in his hands and walking with two disciples to Emmaus are filled with detail and carefully explained. But the gospel writers provide absolutely no description of what happened in the resurrection. Obviously, no one saw it happen. So, that leaves us to imagine. And to rely upon artists. The difference in meaning I described is most obvious when you see it depicted artistically. That’s the intent of a book that Crossan wrote filled with his wife Sarah’s beautiful photographs of icons in churches across the Byzantine Empire and beyond – from Turkey and Greece and Russia and Egypt. Icons that depict the resurrection as Jesus grasping the hands of Adam and Eve, often with prophets on either side, standing with his foot on top of Hades, who is the keeper of the dead. (Now, Hades is not to be confused with a Satan figure. Hades and hell are not the same thing. Hades is simply the keeper of the dwelling place of the dead, not a destination for bad people.) The whole point is: by Jesus grasping the hands of Adam and Eve, these Orthodox icons portray the act of resurrection as Jesus rising up from the dead and taking all of humanity with him. In contrast, Crossan notes, for Western Christians, nobody else rises in, by, or with Christ. Western artists often portray the resurrected Christ as a figure glowing in light, hovering slightly above, arms spread, as a lone individual. The personification of individualism, just how Americans like it. We saw this dramatically on display this week. Right wing America has decided they have had enough of this public health crisis and have begun mass protests to assert their right to individual liberty. “Jesus saved me. To hell with the rest of you.” Wealthy patrons like Betsy DeVos have funded the organizations that sponsored a “spontaneous” Tea Party-inspired, Operation Gridlock demonstration in Michigan, replicated around the country, including later today here in Denver.[4] On Wednesday in Michigan, one woman brought her children to show them how to “fight for our freedoms.”[5] The woman obviously didn’t realize she is simply a chess piece in a game played by the Betsy Devos crowd. Most demonstrators stayed in their cars, but others crowded around each other as they shouted – some in masks, some not. And handed out candy with bare hands. Those cars did indeed create a gridlock that resulted in an ambulance trapped in the middle, delaying their ability to get to the hospital by 10 minutes. Dozens of people carried their assault rifles with them. Some protestors in MAGA hats carried flags emblazoned with “Don’t Tread on Me.” Some carried confederate flags too. What do confederate flags have to do with individual freedom? The majority of Covid 19 victims in Michigan are African American.[6] It certainly seems like this all-white protest crowd is fine with more dead people of color as long as white people have the freedom to do whatever they want. To hell with everyone else. As much as the blatant racism infuriates me, to see people putting their own lives at risk to “protest” because rich people want their money to grow again is the height of who is deplorable. Although, trumping everything else is this weak and desperate president flailing to deflect blame. So, his dutiful sycophants rush to defend him. Like Dr. Oz telling Sean Hannity that having children return to school was an “appetizing opportunity.” “Opening school may only cost us 2 to 3%, in terms of mortality,” and spoke of it in order to get America’s “mojo back.”[7] So, if I get this right, this week we can spare a few thousand children. A few weeks ago, remember, it was senior citizens. The Lt. Governor of Texas and some Faux News hosts thought that surely the elderly would be willing to die to save their grandchildren’s economic future.[8] You know, to hell with them. One Michigan organizer said that “quarantine is when you restrict the movement of sick people. Tyranny is when you restrict the movement of healthy people.” But, as Joel Matthis asks, “What if the free movement of healthy people creates more sick people?”[9] He raised the philosophical question: “What do we owe each other?” Apparently, he answered, “not much.” The freedom of the individual in America is so elevated and so hard wired, it doesn’t know what to do with our responsibility to each other. Or if there even is such a thing. Matthis concedes that not all the “restrictions being imposed are always smart or effective. But you can’t enjoy your liberty if you’re dead.” The president wants a Covid Civil War.[10] With his tweets about the second amendment, the president is inciting armed conflict.[11] Given his utter incompetence and failure, his corruption and graft, this is the only path he sees to re-election. These demonstrations give him the rallies he needs as badly as oxygen and fried chicken. Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, however, is much smarter. She declined to give the demonstrators too much attention, downplaying their size, and instead gave credit to the millions of people in Michigan staying at home.[12] And across the country. And that’s the true story. At the end of the day, ignore the temper tantrums of white men in their silly MAGA hats playing toy soldier. Forget them and give credit to all the brave Americans staying at home and those braver still who make sure we can stay at home – delivery people, trash collectors, power plant workers, cops and firefighters and their support staffs, telephone crews, TV station personnel, online tech people, the post office, the food supply chain, and on and on and on. My sister Mona shared a meme with me this week that said, “I never considered how many people I depend on to isolate myself.” So maybe this health crisis is disproving my point about how Americans elevate individual liberty over the public good. The vast majority are choosing the good – willing to pay the price for it. Plus, I certainly can’t prove that cultures influenced by Eastern Orthodoxy are any less selfish. But if, on this Easter Sunday, we consider a theological response to the pandemic, perhaps the idea of a universal resurrection is helpful. The visual of Jesus, surrounded by the prophets, grasping the hands of Adam and Eve to represent liberation for all of humanity from the power of death. God told Jesus to go to hell – And he did. To get everyone out. The Greek word for resurrection is anastasis (anna-stay-sis). Anastasis literally means “up/rising.”[13] The Operation Gridlock folks might like to think of their activity as an uprising against government tyranny. They make me so angry I want to tell them to go… somewhere really hot, like Florida. But the universal action of Christ we celebrate today is a rising up with all humanity. Rising up by all humanity. Rising up for all humanity. That means, for his followers – western or eastern – no one, no one, is left behind. And means we cannot leave anyone behind if we want to be Christians known for their love. And as I said before, staying home is a holy task of love. A sacred calling. Real bravery. That others might live. Therefore, “Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen! Indeed, I can see him in your face.” [1] https://study.com/blog/why-is-orthodox-easter-usually-a-different-date-than-the-catholic-one.html [2] Wes Granberg-Michaelson, https://sojo.net/articles/i-can-see-him-your-face [3] https://www.christiancentury.org/article/critical-essay/rising-christ [4] https://www.motherjones.com/coronavirus-updates/2020/04/a-devos-linked-group-promoted-the-right-wing-operation-gridlock-tantrum-in-michigan/ [5] https://www.wilx.com/content/news/Operation-Gridlock-protest-underway-569659601.html [6] https://www.freep.com/story/news/local/michigan/2020/04/02/michigan-coronavirus-by-race-deaths-african-americans-tests-covid-19/5116025002/ [7] https://www.marketwatch.com/story/dr-oz-slammed-for-suggesting-it-may-only-cost-us-2-to-3-of-american-lives-to-reopen-schools-2020-04-16 [8] https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2020/03/24/covid-19-texas-official-suggests-elderly-willing-die-economy/2905990001/ [9] https://theweek.com/articles/909093/american-conflict-between-liberty-lockdown [10] https://www.thenewcivilrightsmovement.com/2020/04/rick-wilson-blisters-trump-for-inciting-supporters-to-start-a-covid-civil-war-in-order-to-cover-his-failures/ [11] https://theweek.com/speedreads/909431/trump-repeatedly-tweets-about-liberating-midwestern-states [12]https://www.deadlinedetroit.com/articles/24987/msnbc_asks_michigan_s_whitmer_what_s_up_with_confederate_flags_at_the_lansing_rally [13] https://www.ncronline.org/news/spirituality/eastern-icons-challenge-western-notion-resurrection |
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AuthorMy three loves are being the Pastor of Park Hill UCC in Denver, Hiking in the Colorado Foothills and Mountains, and Traveling around the world Archives
June 2020
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