Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] January 24, 2021 “To Repair Our Nation” Mark 1: 14-20 – New Revised Standard Version John 14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15 and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” 16 As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. 17 And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” 18 And immediately they left their nets and followed him. 19 As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. 20 Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him. I want to read one more piece of “scripture.” You might recognize it: “We will not march back to what was but move to what shall be: A country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation.” Amanda Gorman’s poem at the inauguration on Wednesday made me feel like I’d been to church. But then again, so did President Biden’s speech. He gave a “sermon” full of themes about love and healing. He quoted Saint Augustine. And he stopped for a moment so we could pray together in silence – actually acknowledging the deaths of 400,000 citizens, a horrible percentage among 2 million globally. And actually acknowledging systemic racism “400 years in the making.” He even quoted the Psalms, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy will come in the morning.” That’s Psalm 30, verse 5. Eugene Peterson translates it this way: “The nights of crying your eyes out, will give way to days of laughter.” It’s a new day in America. Breathe! Again, to quote Biden: A day for “hope, not fear. Unity, not division. Decency and dignity. Greatness and goodness.” Yes! Let’s Make America Good Again. Kind. Decent – with admonitions, of course, not to whitewash our history. Whenever we say, “We’re better than that, that’s not who we are,” that willfully ignores our legacy of lynching and Jim Crow laws and mass incarceration, the Trail of Tears and broken treaties, internment camps and kids in cages. Yet, I felt inspired to do better. As Amanda Gorman said, “And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge a union with purpose: To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.” We have waited four long years – really, more like an emotional decade; we have long waited to hear an American president say: “There is truth and there are lies, lies told for power and for profit.” I appreciated that very important qualifier. And then, he admonished, “Our duty is to defend the truth and defeat the lies.” And one more line from Amanda Gorman: “Being American is more than a pride we inherit, it’s the past we step into and how we repair it.” Yes, that is “The Hill We Climb.” And after all our waiting, I’m ready. Are you? Perhaps like you, I have been thinking this week about my call for this new day in America. As a Christian, or as a person of faith, or simply as a person with a moral conscience – to what are you being called today? To what is our church being called? Is it something different? That’s the essential question of our text from the Gospel of Mark. Four men in today’s reading quickly left their nets behind to follow Jesus. You can’t encounter that reading without asking, “Why?” At our Lunch and Lectionary on Thursday, Susan Yarbrough mused on that “infectious immediacy of Jesus.” Marlene Lederer says the same thing happens all the time. You see something and change direction. But as Larry Ricketts noted from his own life, not unless someone asks you. Most of us wait until we’re asked. Perhaps those four men had been pondering their future as they sat in their boats, day after day, casting their nets. Overfishing and Roman taxation had made their work almost worthless. Why even bother? And then along came Jesus. Was there something specifically about him? There couldn’t have been much economic enticement about fishing for people – whatever that meant – instead of catching fish to sell or even fish for the supper table. My friend Kate Huey said, “the difference is that Jesus didn’t give the disciples something new to do. Instead, he called them into new ways of being in the world.” That sentiment is reinforced by one scholar who translated the Greek, not to mean that Jesus called them to fish for people, but rather, Jesus called them to become fishers of people. A calling to become someone more rather than to do something different. Let me say again: Jesus didn’t give the disciples something new to do. Instead, he called them into new ways of being in the world. I think that’s true for us today, too. We have had a unique calling for the past four years. The operative word for many of us these last four years has been “resist.” I have the word resist above the door as I walk into my office. But, I’m ready for what’s next. How about you? To quote Amanda Gorman again, “Being American is more than a pride we inherit, it’s the past we step into and how we repair it.” That is so right. It’s time to step beyond our commitment to resist and now to restore, reestablish, reinstate, return, renew… Biblically, to repair. Perhaps we should call her Reverend Gorman because she preached to us the biblical call of the Prophet Isaiah: to be “repairers of the breach.” Here’s a little behind the story: After decades in Babylon, the exiles returned home to Jerusalem only to find their homes destroyed and their Temple in ruins. They didn’t know what else to do, so they went back to what they had done before, holding their fasts and rituals in the ruins of the old temple. But, in their minds, nothing was happening. With self-righteous pity, they complained to God, “Why do we fast if you don’t see? Why humble ourselves if you won’t notice?” I’m not sure what they expected, but God replied, in Isaiah 58, verses 6-8, “Is this not the fast I choose? To break the chains of injustice, to set the oppressed free?” “The fast I choose is to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin. Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly.” And to end verse 12, Isaiah said: “You shall be called repairers of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.” Interesting coincidence: Rev. William Barber used this same text for the inaugural prayer service, which I didn’t realize until after I wrote this. Again, Amanda Gorman: “Being American is more than a pride we inherit, it’s the past we step into and how we repair it.” As I contemplate this new day in America, that has a ring of authenticity to it. And a broad enough range that all of us can find our calling within it. Repairers of the breach – whether we are artists or economists, whether we are urban or rural, whether we are age 15 or 75, whether we have empty bank accounts or a healthy stock portfolio, together as Christians and Jews and Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists – we can all become repairers of the breach. We may not yet know how, but perhaps just thinking about it this morning will help you contemplate your call for this new day in America. I find the language of repair helpful. And then, Isaiah said, our healing shall spring up quickly, if we break the chains of injustice and set the oppressed free. Just a quick clarification. Repair is not a return to what was normal. It too was broken. Repairing the breach reaches farther back than the previous administration. True repair establishes a justice that was yet to be. And a note of caution: In this new era where our convictions are closer to the president and party now in power, it is important to remember that our call is not to always be in agreement with political agendas but in alignment with the gospel values. Such as, actual economic justice and real racial equity – talk about a breach to repair! We’re not called to be sycophants, but bridge builders and prophets, which is, at times to offer support and at other times to critique. Like Dr. King said: “the church is not called to be the master or servant of the state, but rather to be the conscience of the state.” And yet, perhaps today we can simply relish that it is a new day in America. We can breathe. And remember from the not yet but certainly could be Reverend Gorman: [when we] merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and [we’ve changed] our children’s birthright.
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Park Hill Congregational UCC - Denver, Colorado Daily Reflection - January 7, 2021 Rev. Dr. David Bahr, Pastor Thank you, Mr. Trump (again). I was reminded this morning of a piece I wrote the day after Mr. Trump tear gassed and shot rubber bullets into peaceful protestors so he could stage a photo op in front of St. John’s Episcopal Church, awkwardly holding a Bible. I told him thank you. I thanked him for not entering the church, not opening the bible, not uttering a single word. Thank you, I said, for simply making it baldly obvious that it was just a publicity stunt for his supporters, momentarily even unnerving some of them. But only momentarily. I thought of that moment and many more, like Charlottesville, this morning when trying to discern what I should offer in the way of a daily reflection. Like all of you, I am shocked, appalled, and saddened. I was stunned, but, like many of you, ultimately not surprised. As many others have said, it was exactly what he wanted. He loved it. He loved the unhinged devotion, as any cult leader does. He told the Proud Boys and everyone missing the glory days of slavery and lynching and segregation to come to Washington because it’s going to be wild. He ginned up the crowd and sent them to the capitol. To drink the Kool Aid. In my own life, I have been trying to focus on gratitude. At our gratitude group on Tuesday night, I asked the 17 participants to share what they were grateful for in 2020. Don’t just be glad it’s a new year. For what are you grateful? It was a wonderful conversation. Yesterday’s shameful activities deserve the same question. I do not mean to diminish the terror inflicted on members of Congress. I do not mean to dismiss 4 dead people because of that coup attempt. Pause for a moment to recognize the trauma to our country. But for what might we be grateful in the aftermath of yesterday’s insurrection attempt? I am grateful because the evil of acts of men must exposed to the light of day. It is necessary for change. Yesterday was disturbing. And hopeful. There were no winks and nods and dog whistles. KKK members used to walk around in hoods. Today they wave Trump flags and wear red MAGA hats. White supremacy was on full display. Without masks to hide. An act of desperation. It was, I pray, the last gasping breaths of a death rattle. It’s not gone. This isn’t over. But yesterday was a turning point. Politicians who disingenuously denounce violence but still support the lie of a fraudulent election are on notice. You are a hypocrite. The people who vote for them are on notice. We are moving forward as a rainbow nation of all races, creeds, and colors. Yesterday backfired. And moved us a little closer to a world that is open, inclusive, just, and compassionate. And for that I am grateful. But it also can’t stand as a disturbing moment in time, momentarily even moving Lindsay Graham to flip flop once more and denounce the president. We may wish to look away, to rush forward to two weeks from now and breathe a sigh of relief that our long national nightmare is over. We can’t. Mr. Trump must be held accountable. He must be impeached again. I expect that some of the mask-less rioters will be arrested – all of them should be. But the man who told them to drink the Kool Aid must ultimately pay the highest price. So, thank you, Mr. Trump, for making your intentions obvious enough that everyone can see clearly that you must be stopped. This morning we pray for the restoration of calm and peace and decorum in the Capitol. We pray for the soothing of the nerves of scared citizens. But I also pray that God fill members of Congress with enough shame and disgust that they won’t walk too quickly away. Enough is enough. Thank you, Mr. Trump. |
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