Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 27, 2022 “The Grumblers and Grumbled-About” Luke 15: 11b-32 – Common English Bible All the tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus to listen to him. 2 The Pharisees and legal experts were grumbling, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3 Jesus told them this parable: “A certain man had two sons. 12 The younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the inheritance.’ Then the father divided his estate between them. 13 Soon afterward, the younger son gathered everything together and took a trip to a land far away. There, he wasted his wealth through extravagant living. 14 “When he had used up his resources, a severe food shortage arose in that country and he began to be in need. 15 He hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to eat his fill from what the pigs ate, but no one gave him anything. 17 When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have more than enough food, but I’m starving to death! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I no longer deserve to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands.” ’ 20 So he got up and went to his father. “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion. His father ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. 21 Then his son said, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ 22 But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! 23 Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We must celebrate with feasting 24 because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. 25 “Now his older son was in the field. Coming in from the field, he approached the house and heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. 27 The servant replied, ‘Your brother has arrived, and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he received his son back safe and sound.’ 28 Then the older son was furious and didn’t want to enter in, but his father came out and begged him. 29 He answered his father, ‘Look, I’ve served you all these years, and I never disobeyed your instruction. Yet you’ve never given me as much as a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours returned, after gobbling up your estate on prostitutes, you slaughtered the fattened calf for him.’ 31 Then his father said, ‘Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.’” Did you know this was made into a Lifetime movie? I’m not usually a fan of Lifetime or Hallmark movies, but Pastor Brown was actually really good. Set in a Black megachurch, one Sunday as Pastor Brown was preaching in the pulpit, he had a heart attack. As he lay dying in the hospital, Pastor Brown named his successor – one of his two daughters. But not the daughter who dutifully stayed by his side running the church year after year. Instead, he named his daughter Jesse who had completed seminary but is now an exotic dancer. You know, it’s a classic tale of a seminarian turned stripper. Jesse had been so disconnected from the family that she hadn’t even come home for her mother’s funeral, claiming she “couldn’t get time off work.” Yet her father never stopped hoping she would return. When the older daughter heard her father’s last dying wish, she was understandably hurt, angry, disappointed… And the Deacon Board expressed its extreme displeasure with the idea of an exotic dancer as their pastor. More than anyone, however, Jesse felt completely unworthy of the honor. I won’t spoil the end of the movie for you, but I was amazed at how well they followed the “script” of the prodigal son. But more than that, I was amused by the reviews. Jill O’Rourke said that when the older daughter complained of being overlooked, she nodded in agreement so vigorously, she almost gave herself whiplash. “Look,” she wrote, “I’m not saying Pastor Brown should’ve condemned Jesse to eternal damnation or refused to speak to her again. Forgiveness and parental support are fine. But people who have redeemed themselves after doing shameful things do not deserve more credit or attention than people who have striven to be good all along. Why should Jesse, who abandoned her family and doesn’t even want to be the pastor; why should she receive her father’s blessing above a daughter who has been responsible and worked hard. I mean, give me a break. More than the one who remains loyal, we’re supposed to root for the ‘Stripper with a Heart of Gold’?” And there we have it. Both the movie and the parable connect us on an emotional level with the various characters. Some in parental roles. Some of us as the oldest sibling or the youngest. Like usual, if you are the middle child, there is no mention of you. I want to make a couple of quick points: The younger child asked for an early pay-out of their share of inheritance. After spending all that money having a good time, he got a job feeding pigs, which, as a Jew, would have signified he had truly hit rock bottom. As we know, humbled, he came to his senses and composed a speech asking his father to become a servant, not reunited as a child. But the father had obviously not given up hope for his son’s return. He must have been standing on the horizon looking for his son for a long, long time. And then, overjoyed, filled with compassion, even before the son could give his speech, the father had already ordered a robe, a ring, and a lavish homecoming party. That joy soured, however, when upon returning from the fields, the older sibling felt a combination of anger, hurt, disappointment… and lashed out to complain about “this son of yours.” To which the father replied, “This brother of yours” was lost but now he is found. Rejoice. And then we’re left to fill in the blanks. Inquiring minds want to know, what happened next? Were they reconciled? One of the more cynical reviewers of the movie speculated that both Pastor Jesse and the prodigal son wouldn’t have lasted more than six months before a stripper pole called out to both of them again. Cynical and tasteless! But, that’s kind of the context. Jesus has been spending a lot of time with people of questionable reputation. Religious folks were grumbling and growling about it. In response, Jesus told three parables. First, the parable of the lost sheep. Secondly, the parable of the lost coin. And finally, carrying on the theme, the parable of the lost son. Each of them has a variation on “rejoice! What was lost is now found.” The genius of this parable is that we can easily relate to different characters in the story. In different ways and at different times, we may be all of them. Perhaps we can identify as someone who is heartbroken, waiting, never giving up hope, yet criticized by others who say “good riddance.” Or like how I felt in school. I always thought it was unfair that the students who were acting up got the most attention. Or how we can never live up to the reputation of our “perfect at everything” brother? Why can’t you be like him? So why not just leave? There are so many characters and so many different ways to relate to this story, including as one the servants watching these family dynamics all play out right in front of us. And then there’s the religious people – at times we might be among the grumblers. Or we might be the people of doubtful reputation watching our lives debated. The grumbled-about. You may not know that the United Methodist Church is currently going through a very nasty divorce. There will soon be a separate entity known as the Global Methodist Church composed of congregations and even whole conferences who leave largely over opposition to people like me. One of perhaps multiple denominations to form in the next few years. You might say this split was 50 years in the making, as soon as a line was added to their Book of Discipline in 1972 stating that “homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching” and thereby prohibiting the ordination of LGBTQ folks and clergy officiating at same-gender weddings. That happened to be the same year the first openly gay man, Bill Johnson, was ordained in the UCC. Methodists have split before. In the lead up to the Civil War, the church split into a northern and a Methodist Church South in 1845. You know the church next to St. Paul’s Cathedral with the angel on top? That was one of those southern churches. Their breach wasn’t repaired until 1939. But many of the same regional divisions began to appear little more than 30 years later, this time not over slavery but homosexuality. And again, a full out breach that may take another 100 years to repair. In the last few decades, various attempts at compromise or resolution have failed. The most recent proposal was called One Church – to essentially live-and-let live. It would have been a truce between congregations that were LGBTQ affirming and those who weren’t – a model somewhat like the UCC that is congregationally based. Except that Methodists are not congregational. They have a very distinct hierarchy unlike ours that has a lot to do with money and property. And with that comes power. And conflict. I left the United Methodist Church of my youth 35 years ago. It’s painful to be among the grumbled-about who are “ruining” the church with their dissolute ways. So, back to today’s parable. It’s familiar. But what is it actually about? The genius of a parable is that it has the potential for many different meanings, but forgiveness is frequently given as the answer to this one. It seems so simple. The father forgave his son. Or did he? Amy-Jill Levine is a professor at Vanderbilt School of Divinity and one of very few Jewish scholars of Christian scripture. With this unique perspective, she often sees things in the New Testament that Christians don’t. She asks, what makes so many people think this story is about forgiveness? Yes, the younger son certainly acted unwisely, but for what reason did he need forgiveness? He didn’t steal the father’s money. He didn’t run away from home. Dr. Levine exposes interpretations she identifies as anti-Semitic. For example, for many centuries this parable has been seen as an allegory in which the younger brother represents Christians while God the father chastises the angry and indignant older brother, who represent Jews. What else might this parable be about? First of all, what parent gives a 20-year-old the family fortune and expects them to always make good choices? Why do we refer to this story as the parable of the “prodigal” son? Why not call him the prodigal father? Wasn’t the father the wasteful one? He liquidated a portion of the family’s assets upon which the whole family depended? So, let’s back up. What does prodigal mean? Prodigal means wasteful and reckless. But it also means extravagant. The hospitality the father extends to his son upon his return might be called wasteful or it might be called extravagant. Certainly the older son saw it as wasteful, wasting resources on someone who did not deserve it. How did the father see it? How do you see it? Setting aside the wisdom of dispersing inheritance money to a 20-year-old in advance, did the father waste money on welcoming the son back home? Should the father have acted with such extravagance? I mean, killing the fatted calf that might have been intended for sacrifice at the Temple? But here’s the heart of my message today. We often think that the father in this story represents God. If so, how about calling this the Parable of the Prodigal God? You know, wasteful, reckless, and extravagant. I think this is a story about a God who is prodigal, who “wastes” grace on the grumbled-about. And what about the grumblers? Like the older brother, God welcomes them to the feast too. They’re not sent to bed without their supper, go think about what you’ve just done. But on top of all this, look at these characters. I also see this as a parable of wonderfully reckless, wastefully extravagant hope. Hopeful like the father who never stopped watching the horizon. Who are you hoping to see come back? It’s not a waste to hope. Or hopeful like the older brother. Maybe he just felt excluded. Maybe his hurt was his hope that his father would see him, appreciate him, or simply be in relationship with him. Where do you feel excluded or unwanted? Don’t give up. It’s not a waste to hope. Or hopeful like the younger brother, who feared his estrangement was permanent, his choices unforgivable. It’s not true. It’s never true. But wait. Why did the younger brother leave? For some reason I never thought to ask before. Did he feel like he had to leave because of a questionable reputation, someone grumbled-about? I assumed he was just greedy, but is that like a story we make up about someone dismiss them? To avoid the real issue? I’ll have to think about that some more. The point is, however, he was hopeful, not knowing if he would be accepted. He came back, not to resume a place in the family but to find a home among the servants. It’s not a waste to hope. I mean, if there’s any reason to think there is hope for a seminarian turned stripper turned pastor, surely there is hope for all of us from a very prodigal God. This prodigal God who “wastes” grace on people of doubtful reputation – the grumbled-about and grumblers both.
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Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 20, 2022 “What’s the Urgency?” Luke 13: 1-9 – The Message About that time some people came up and told him about the Galileans Pilate had killed while they were at worship, mixing their blood with the blood of the sacrifices on the altar. Jesus responded, “Do you think those murdered Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans? Not at all. Unless you turn to God, you, too, will die. And those eighteen in Jerusalem the other day, the ones crushed and killed when the Tower of Siloam collapsed and fell on them, do you think they were worse citizens than all other Jerusalemites? Not at all. Unless you turn to God, you, too, will die.” 6-7 Then he told them a story: “A man had an apple tree planted in his front yard. He came to it expecting to find apples, but there weren’t any. He said to his gardener, ‘What’s going on here? For three years now I’ve come to this tree expecting apples and not one apple have I found. Chop it down! Why waste good ground with it any longer?’ 8-9 “The gardener said, ‘Let’s give it another year. I’ll dig around it and fertilize, and maybe it will produce next year; if it doesn’t, then chop it down.’” The gospel passage for today begins with this most bizarre, obscure reference. Bizarre to us, but relevant to Jesus’ audience, an incident fresh in their memories. Some Galileans had travelled to Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. That’s not like jumping in the car to go to church. It’s 80 miles of walking in between. About a four-day journey one way, it’s a sacred pilgrimage. While they were worshiping in the Temple, Pilate had some of them murdered. Which means, as the gory scene describes, their blood ran in streams together with the blood of the sacrifices used in worship. Horrific. Jesus asked, now what had they done wrong. What had they done to deserve this? Nothing. But hold on. A social justice, liberation theology would note: this wasn’t random. This is yet one more example of how cruelly the occupying forces of the Roman Empire treated the people. Supposedly there was some talk of rebellion up in Galilee, but what did that have to do with faithful people who made an 80-mile trek to worship in the Temple. Just more of the daily senseless abuse they suffered under the reigns of both Pilate and Herod. What had the people done wrong? The second example Jesus gave seems more straightforward. Eighteen people died when a tower collapsed on them. What had they done wrong to deserve that? Nothing. But a social justice, liberation theology might ask, why did the tower collapse? When the audience heard that reference, did they know something we don’t? For example, if I mention the Flint water crisis, something terrible immediately comes to mind. Thousands of children poisoned with lead in their drinking water. But it wasn’t an overnight accident that was fixed immediately. And once responsibility was determined, not addressed but denied. What had these kids done wrong? Nothing. But that doesn’t mean someone else did nothing wrong. It’s hardly random that out of all the cities where this could have happened that Flint is a poverty-stricken majority-Black city. Neither the children, nor their parents and families, did anything wrong to deserve this. But it would certainly be wrong if those who were responsible got away without any justice. In Flint or at the Tower in Jerusalem. The stories of the Galileans and the victims of the tower crash both seem like pretty simple straightforward answers to the ageless question: why do bad things happen to good people. As Jesus said elsewhere, it rains both on the just and the unjust. But that’s not ultimately what this passage is about. And, despite all that additional information I shared about that gruesome cruelty against the Galileans, Jesus didn’t use the occasion to rage against Rome, as at least some in the crowd must have wished. Instead, he turned to the crowd and asked, “And what about you?” And regardless of whether the tower collapse was malicious or not, Jesus turned back to them and asked again, “And what about you?” In our passage today read from The Message, you heard Jesus say, “Unless you turn to God, you, too, will die.” While this paraphrase is easier to understand, I don’t agree with the translation of this line. It doesn’t even make sense. Unless you turn to God you will die. We will all die regardless. The Common English Bible is clearer. “Unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did.” Sudden and innocent? I don’t think this is entirely clear either. But how about this? Essentially, the liberation Jesus preaches in this story is not liberation from Rome but to embrace the change that brings liberation for ourselves. For these people with no power, he tells them to seek liberation from within. Even so, Jesus makes clear, you better get on it. You never know when a madman like Pilate might order some indiscriminate massacre or some random tower might fall on you. Why put off until tomorrow what you can do today? Change your hearts and lives now. Turn to God now. Repent. That’s what the New Revised Standard Version in our pews says. “Repent.” Cue the music and bring in Billie Graham. Repent is one of most loaded words in Christianity. It’s so hard not to hear the word and stop listening, certain that some long pointy finger is waiting for you. Brittany Cooper had heard plenty of that. Her father was a dyed-in-the-wool, ‘baptize with fire’ Baptist preacher. She described the church she grew up in as obsessed with sin and repentance. She didn’t dare approach God in prayer without first dutifully cataloguing a litany of sins she had committed since the last time she prayed. She was constantly made to feel unworthy, unholy, and exhausted by her own inadequacy. She shared that as an adult, “to be a Black woman in America is to be confronted on a daily basis with [the same] catalog of one’s supposed inadequacy and unworthiness.” I didn’t need that from God too, she said. Brittany is now Dr. Cooper, a pastor and professor of hip hop feminism at Rutgers University. She asked, if we could get past the religious baggage that comes along with it, could a queer-affirming, anti-imperial, anti-patriarchal, pro-Black lives gospel preacher dare talk about repentance? Well, let’s get out from under the revival tent and ask, what if repentance just meant we are willing to change our mind? Change our hearts, minds, and ways in whatever direction that is more loving, more merciful, more grace-filled, and more justice-seeking than we were before. What if to grow in the Christian faith meant to continue changing our minds, mending our ways, and going in directions that were more loving, more merciful, more grace-filled, and more justice seeking than we were before. I like that! That kind of repentance feels really good. Liberating, actually. Christianity has so thoroughly indoctrinated people that repentance is about the pursuit of personal salvation. We are to confess our shortcomings until the next time we confess our shortcomings until the next time we confess our shortcomings without ever considering any other or deeper change. What does all that repentance get us if we are stuck in some circle of unholy inadequacy? What if saying “I repent” just meant I’m willing to change. To say, I’ve learned something – about myself, about my community, about the world. When a scientist discovers new information, they move in that direction, not stay stuck on what it used to be. Liberation Christians could do the same thing. As we learn, as our eyes and hearts and minds are opened to new information, shouldn’t we turn and go in the direction of liberation? I think that’s what it means – or could mean – to repent. But there’s more. Jesus continues with the image of the fig-less fig tree or the apple-less apple tree. The owner wants to chop it down. The gardener pleads to allow him to give it a little extra attention and some more manure. Give it another year. And then if it doesn’t produce, cut it down. I like the plea to give it another year. I don’t care for the “or cut it down.” Will there be grace again the following year? Or is this really just communicating the urgency, the immediacy of this need? We can’t read Jesus without recognizing that among all the things that can describe him, he and John the Baptist were apocalyptic prophets. They sincerely believed the end was near, some sort of end or at least some sort of cosmic disruption. Time was of the essence for them. Early Christians were so convinced the end was near that Paul actually wrote to the Corinthians it was better not to get married, “unless you can’t help yourself!” Soon, it’s not going to matter. “The appointed time has grown very short.” Since we are not particularly concerned about the immediate end of the world, does that mean we should just shrug off any sense of immediacy? Like we do with the climate crisis? Where’s the urgency? What’s the point of waiting until later to be more loving, more merciful, more grace-filled, and more justice-seeking than we were before. Justice seeking for our next generation. What is our lack of urgency about? As a white Christian, one of the most impactful things I think Dr. King ever said was written from his jail cell in Birmingham. He was in jail for his participation in a non-violent demonstration. A group of white clergy accused him of being too impatient. But, he said, “For years now I have heard the word "wait." It rings in the ear with a piercing familiarity. This "wait" has almost always meant "never." We have waited for more than three hundred and forty years for our God-given and constitutional rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jet-like speed toward the goal of political independence, and we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward the gaining of a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. I guess it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts to say "wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim;
I can’t help but hear Jesus tell the story about the cruelty of Rome toward its Galilean citizens and compare it to our fellow citizens whose lives don’t seem to matter much more than that. And what has anyone done to deserve their treatment than to be born in our respective day and time? That’s when Jesus turns to the crowd, then as now, to them and to us, and asks, “And what are you going to do about it?” You must turn to God. You must change your heart and lives. You must repent. We might ask, but what’s the hurry? Let me ask you to listen to this and determine whether this was written in the 1960s or the summer of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor: I’m more disappointed with white moderates who prefer the absence of tension to the presence of justice;
When was it said? It was Dr. King, but you weren’t quite sure, right? Dr. King also said, “Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.” If the Bible were ever opened up to add more material, Letter from Birmingham Jail would go right between Paul’s letters to the Romans and the Corinthians. And when I hear Dr. King speak in that way, I now understand the urgency about which Jesus is speaking. Repentance not for the sake of my own soul, but to repent on behalf of this world we share and which God’s loves so much. Repent by changing our hearts, minds, and ways in whatever direction that is more loving, more merciful, more grace-filled, and more justice-seeking than we were before. And keep changing. What good is repentance that gets us stuck in some circle of unholy inadequacy? Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 13, 2022 “Under God’s Wings” Luke 13: 31-35 – Common English Bible At that time, some Pharisees approached Jesus and said, “Go! Get away from here, because Herod wants to kill you.” 32 Jesus said to them, “Go, tell that fox, ‘Look, I’m throwing out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will complete my work. 33 However, it’s necessary for me to travel today, tomorrow, and the next day because it’s impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ 34 “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those who were sent to you! How often I have wanted to gather your people just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you didn’t want that. 35 Look, your house is abandoned. I tell you, you won’t see me until the time comes when you say, Blessings on the one who comes in the Lord’s name Context. You expected me to use that word, right!? OK, here goes. Leading up to today’s reading, Jesus has been teaching. For example, the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. The Kingdom of God is like yeast. He’s been on a roll, but the teaching part of his life is coming to a close. The last words before our reading today, Jesus said, “The last shall be first and the first shall be last.” That’s when some Pharisees approached and warned him to get out of there because Herod wants to kill you. The Pharisees. Now, who were they again? The Pharisees were part of a reform movement within Judaism concerned with purity. Unfortunately, sometimes they were so focused on every jot and tittle in the law that they lost sight of the people. For example, they complained about Jesus healing a man on the sabbath, implying it’s more important to hold sabbath than to heal on it. Those are the kinds of things that really upset Jesus. Jesus has been really rough on them. Just two chapters before, Jesus was eating a meal with some Pharisees. That’s a good thing. Eating together was everything is those days. But while sitting around the table, Jesus told them they were stuffed with greed and wickedness. Jesus called them foolish. Repeatedly. He told them that even though they were very diligent in giving their tithes to the Temple, they neglected justice and love for God. He kept repeating “How terrible for you, how terrible for you… You’re like ‘unmarked graves that people walk on.’” Talk about something that would make them impure! And this wasn’t behind their back after dinner. This was to their face. So, why would any Pharisee want to protect Jesus from Herod? But Pharisees were not a monolithic group. Some Pharisees were actually devout followers of Jesus. Some believed he was the Messiah. Some Pharisees belonged to early Christian communities, but there was a falling out over whether someone had to become Jewish first before they became a Christian. Pharisees argued for it and lost the argument. Topics for another day. So anyway, were today’s Pharisees Jesus’ friends or foes? We don’t know. The text just says that “some” Pharisees approached Jesus to warm him about Herod. But, wait, who was Herod again? Actually, there were lots of them. The Herod family reigned for about 140 years. This one is Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great. Remember the wise men from Christmas? Herod the Great was the one the wise men went to see. They asked for directions to the newborn King of the Jews. A new king was a threat to his legacy. Therefore, among the horrific things this Herod did was to order the massacre of every boy under the age of 2 in and around Bethlehem. We call it the massacre of the innocents. Shortly after this, Herod the Great died and his son Herod Antipas became king, except that they weren’t really kings. They were tetrarchs, which means they were put in place by the Roman Empire, the occupying force. Like puppets, right? They were Jewish but only served at the pleasure of Rome. And though they were Jewish, they didn’t care about Judaism. The Herods had power but no popularity among their own people. And they ruled with the same impulsive cruelty as Rome, such as ordering the massacre of infant boys. Rome didn’t care. They actually liked it. Herod Antipas was cruel, ambitious, and lustful. One night he had a lavish banquet where his step-daughter danced for him. It’s as creepy as it sounds. Herod was so enthralled by her, he offered to give her anything she wanted. Her mother told her to ask for John the Baptist’s head on a platter. John had called out some really appalling behavior and she was angry about it. She got back at him, though. In front of all the party guests, John’s head was indeed served on a platter. But when the Pharisees warned Jesus that Herod Antipas was out to get him, his response was “Who, him? Go tell that fox I’ve got more important things to do.” A fox was a pathetic, scared little animal – definitely an insult, but Jesus didn’t care. He had a mission and was on the way to Jerusalem for his final confrontation with power. Jesus actually did eventually face the fox. It was the last day of his life. Jesus first stood accused in front of the chief priests and legal scholars, then faced trial in front of Pilate who sent him to Herod, who sent him back to Pilate and on to a cross for crucifixion. But for today’s reading, at this point he is still on his journey to Jerusalem. OK, so that’s a long back story. How is it relevant? Ukraine is on my heart this morning, likely yours too. And the reason I wanted to make sure you knew exactly who Herod is… It’s Vladimir Putin. I lament for Ukraine. I lament how Herod the Great ordered the massacre of all those innocent infant and toddler boys around Bethlehem. Just like I lament over Vladimir Putin who ordered, or doesn’t mind, the destruction of maternity hospitals full of mothers giving birth. How can we comprehend the intended death of infants in Bethlehem? By watching it play out in Kyiv. Sadly, the Bible is all too relevant today. And what can we learn? Lamentation. In response to the massacre of those children, the prophecy of Jeremiah was cited: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more.” Lamentation. I lament for babies born in bunkers underneath hospitals. And scenes of the elderly crawling through rubble to save themselves. And families waiting on crowded train platforms that resemble the train platforms of World War 2. I lament for teenagers sent to fight a war that serves only the purpose of one ambitious, lustful, and cruel man. Not for Herod. Putin. Jesus lamented over Jerusalem. Jesus wished he could be a mother hen who protects her chicks under her wings from the Herods of the world. We lament over Kyiv. And I wish the world could protect the men, women, and children of Ukraine under the protective shelter of our Mother God against another mad man. We can respond with generosity toward the millions of refugees, but otherwise, I feel helpless. And so, I think the word lament is really helpful. We can pray for them, but sometimes prayer feels like too small a word. Especially when paired as “thoughts and prayers,” as though prayer is something we think about. Lament is something we feel. Deeply. So, what is lament? Here’s five things: 1.Lament is like a biblical vocabulary beyond words – often found in groans and sighs too deep for words. It’s a language of sorrow that comes from the gut when words aren’t enough. And it’s a language God understands. 2.But lament is also a means for holding silence. Sacred silence. We don’t always have to say something. It’s OK when we have nothing to say. Sometimes it’s best to say nothing. Just to hold silence. 3.But lament also welcomes us to shake our fist and complain and protest. Complaining to God is good. The Psalmists did it all the time. It’s an expression of grief mixed with faith. God can take it. 4.Lament isn’t just a feeling. It’s a process for our pain, like the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But lament is also explicitly about faith, that knows God is with us in the denial, anger, and the rest. 5.Because lament is also worship. Grief-filled prayers of pain are among the deepest expressions of worship. It is when we most feel dependent on God. As we sit here today, far removed, what can we say about Ukraine other than to groan or sigh because we have no words. To be silent. And shake our fist and complain. And not be afraid of grief because we trust that God is with us, the only source of comfort we can always rely on. Whom we worship and upon whom we depend. I think the word lament helps. It’s something we can do – to lament for Ukraine today. To lament for the people of Russia. To lament for Europe. May they all find shelter under the safety of God’s wing. In the words of Psalm 27: May God hide them in Her shelter in the day of trouble; May God conceal them under the cover of Her tent; May She will set them high on a rock away from danger; May She keep them strong to take courage in their heart.
This sermon was delivered for the UCC San Diego Partnership's annual combined Ash Wednesday service.
Ash Wednesday Reflection March 3, 2022 Excuse me one moment. Take off my glasses and clean them. Wow. What a difference that makes. I’m always amazed that despite enjoying the ability to see more clearly, I just usually adjust to looking through dirty glasses. Maybe we could think of Lent like a reminder to clean our glasses. To appreciate how we may be able to get by looking through distorted lenses, but what a difference it makes when we can see more clearly. So, think of tonight’s prayers and songs and this season ahead as the invitation to clear the dust from our eyes, clean the lens through which we look, and see what’s important. And what might happen? Well, I want to tell the story of Emmett Till. Familiar to some, only a vague recollection for others. Emmett lived in Chicago and when he was 14 years old, he wanted to spend August with his cousins in Mississippi. He’d never been there before. He didn’t know, or maybe as a teenager he wouldn’t listen to, instructions about how to survive as a young Black man. It all started in a country store on the side of a road. As Rick Bragg describes it, on a “thin blacktop that cuts between fields and swamps and islands of trees.[1] Rural Mississippi where some of the roads link up with seemingly pointless routes that go nowhere in particular. And others that just peter out into dirt roads and vanish into the weeds a few miles on.” On that thin blacktop road in the middle of nowhere, Emmett entered a country store and purchased the 1955 equivalent of Skittles and ice tea. But under the pretext that whites were always constructing to terrorize Black citizens, Emmett was accused of whistling at the white store owner’s wife; as in “flirting” with her. Under the pretext that this 14-year-old was flirting with an adult white woman, Emmett was dragged from his relative's home, beaten until one of his eyes came out, shot through the head, and dumped in the Tallahatchie River with a 70-pound cotton gin fan around his neck. His body was found several days later. Two white men were arrested and tried but never convicted, never punished. There was no shame along that thin blacktop road. Emmet could have stayed a statistic, just one among many children lynched in some way or another. But instead of staying hidden on those seemingly pointless roads that go nowhere, Emmett’s mother, Mamie, decided that if the country could see what happened, they might care. She demanded an open casket funeral for Emmett. People thought she was, forgive the language, crazy. Or overcome with grief-stricken irrationality. But, she saw clearly what was needed. "I think everybody needs to know exactly what had happened to Emmett Till." Some 50,000 people streamed in to view Emmett's corpse in Chicago. Horrified by the mutilation of her son's body, many people left in tears or fainting at the sight and smell of the body, but they also left determined that it would not happen again. There may have been no shame along that thin blacktopped road, but the country reacted in horror. And with that momentum, leaders for civil rights moved the fight to the front lines. Emmett was killed in August, 1955. In December, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus. Soon after, a 26-year-old minister was asked to lead a city-wide bus boycott. His name was Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. With Emmett’s death and Mamie’s brave determination that people would see exactly what happened to her son, the Civil Rights movement was officially born. At first, she said, “I just wanted to go in a hole and hide my face from the world.” But at his funeral, she stood at the pulpit and looked down at her only son's mutilated body. She told mourners, "I don't have a minute to hate, I'll pursue justice for the rest of my life." Mrs. Till took her fight to the people and gave speeches to overflowing crowds across the country. It was almost like an evangelistic crusade. She said later that, like God, she also lost her only son, but through her work, she became the mother of thousands. I’m so inspired by the line: "I don't have a minute to hate.” She could have. She had every right to. Instead, “I'll pursue justice for the rest of my life." Jesus said, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20 but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” “Treasures in heaven.” I want to remind us that references like these are not about the hereafter – or only about that. Members of Mission Hills will have already heard me use this line before. Rev. Kenneth Samuel describes what progressive Christians believe in: “Something sound on the ground while we’re still around, not some pie in the sky bye and bye when we die.” After all, we pray the Lord’s Prayer every week or even more: “On earth, as it is in heaven.” Therefore tonight, we’re reminded that our task is always to bring earth a little closer to heaven, or maybe it’s to bring heaven a little closer to earth by cleaning our lenses distorted by fear or shame or apathy so that we might experience the fullness of life. To know that God sees us, hears us, loves us, forgives us. But it is also to let go of the distorted lenses by which people see or define us. The issue isn’t just the way we look at the world but the way the world looks at us – as people of color, as people who are LGBTQ, as women, elders and children, people with a disability, who speak a different language. Any way in which who we are is distorted by others. May God set us free. Lastly, Emmett and Mamie Till also invite us to wipe away the distortions of anxiety or guilt or indifference so that we may participate in the fullness of life for everyone else too. Through our prayers of confession and assurances of grace, the dust is cleared from our eyes and we are free to understand what’s important. Just look inside and all around and, I promise, one day you’ll see and know exactly what you must do. [1] https://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/01/weekinreview/emmett-till-s-long-shadow-a-crime-refuses-to-give-up-its-ghosts.html |
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