Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] May 12, 2024 “Why Do We All Belong?” Acts 10: 9b-17a – Common English Bible Peter went up on the roof to pray. 10 He became hungry and wanted to eat. While others were preparing the meal, he had a visionary experience. 11 He saw heaven opened up and something like a large linen sheet being lowered to the earth by its four corners. 12 Inside the sheet were all kinds of four-legged animals, reptiles, and wild birds.[a] 13 A voice told him, “Get up, Peter! Kill and eat!” 14 Peter exclaimed, “Absolutely not, Lord! I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.” 15 The voice spoke a second time, “Never consider unclean what God has made pure.” 16 This happened three times, then the object was suddenly pulled back into heaven. 17 Peter was bewildered about the meaning of the vision. Peter got hungry and started thinking about lunch. While he waited for lunch to be served, he fell asleep. He was so hungry he had a dream or a vision about all kinds of things he couldn’t eat. Not foods with too much fat, salt, and sugar, he dreamt about foods he couldn’t eat because he was faithful to the dietary laws of his religion. In his vision, he saw the sky open and something that looked like a large linen sheet tied in its four corners being lowered down from heaven – like a tablecloth spread over a picnic table. And on that tablecloth was every kind of animal, reptile, and bird you could think of. A voice said, “Get up, Peter! Kill and eat!” Peter exclaimed, “Absolutely not, Lord! I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.” The voice said, “Never consider anything unclean that God has made pure.” He had the same dream three times and when he woke up he was puzzled. But as hungry as he still was, lunch was delayed because some visitors showed up at his door. They wanted him to come with them and meet a man named Cornelius. You see, the day before, Cornelius had an unusual dream too, a vision of his own. It was 3:00 in the afternoon, the regular time for prayer. An angel of God appeared in a vision – an angel as real as his next-door neighbor – who called out his name. Cornelius answered, “What is it?” The angel replied, “Your prayers and compassionate acts have come to God’s attention.” Cornelius wasn’t your average joe, a humble man doing good deeds that nobody noticed. Cornelius was a prominent Roman soldier and not just a solider, he headed a military unit of about 600 soldiers for the occupying force of Rome. If anyone represented the enemy, it was this guy. He had a reputation, but not for cruelty. He was always the first person to help someone in need. He was a thoroughly good man and always faithful to prayer. He directed his whole household – children, relatives, and servants – to live worshipfully before the Jewish God. That’s why he was praying at 3:00 in the afternoon. They were what we call Gentile God-worshippers. The angel told Cornelius what to do. He sent two servants and one of his soldiers who was also devoted to God to bring a man named Peter to meet with Cornelius. No explanation why, just go get him and bring him back to me – a day long journey both ways. They arrived at Peter’s house and knocked on the door. Peter was still waking up from the most unusual dream and trying to figure out what it meant. Something about a linen sheet lowered down from heaven with foods on it that he wasn’t allowed to eat and yet told to kill and eat. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the repeated knocking at the door. The Spirit had to nudge him and whispered, “Go answer the door. I’ve sent these men.” They introduced themselves and told Peter their request that he accompany them to see Cornelius, but they assured him, this Roman soldier, this leader of soldiers, is a good man, a God-fearing man. Ask any Jew in the land. Peter invited them into his house and in the morning, Peter and several of his friends made the 14-hour walk to the beautiful city of Caesarea along the Mediterranean Sea. Cornelius was waiting with his whole household to welcome Peter and the others. Cornelius got on the ground to worship Peter who quickly told him to get up. “I’m human just like you.” As the family and servants of Cornelius gathered around, Peter said, “You know, it’s highly irregular for us to visit with people like you. Forbidden, in fact. But I just had this unusual dream. Something about eating things I’m not allowed to eat and the instruction – ‘never consider anything unclean that God has declared pure.’” He thought about what his dream might mean for a minute and had an epiphany: “I think God has just shown me that I should never call a person impure or unclean. But first, what do you want with me? Why did you call me here?” Cornelius told Peter about the vision he had while he was praying, the visitation by an angel who instructed him to send for Peter. He described every detail. And said, “we’re ready to do whatever you ask of us.” Peter nearly fell off his chair. He exclaimed, “God has done it! God has shown us the truth. It’s as clear as day. In every nation, those who do right by their fellow human and worship God with sincerity are included. God plays no favorites. God shows no partiality. The door is open to everyone. The children of Israel and everyone else too – including, shocker of shockers – a Roman soldier. Our enemies. All who worship God are one in Christ.” Everyone stood there with their mouths wide open. And then all of a sudden, the Holy Spirit fell upon everyone in the room, just like on Pentecost when she had fallen on people from every nation speaking every kind of language. But, they were all devout Jews. Here, the Holy Spirit came upon non-Jews – poured out on Gentiles, even on an enemy. Peter watched in amazement and said, “Does anyone object to baptizing these friends?” But of course, after all that, who could object? What a glorious, joyous occasion. But when the folks at headquarters heard about it, they were not so happy. Peter went to Jerusalem and heard plenty of criticism. They accused him of entering the home of the uncircumcised and eating with them. Isn’t it fascinating that when Jesus ate in the homes of tax collectors and prostitutes, the religious authorities accused him of eating with sinners!? And now the religious authorities representing Jesus turned on Peter for eating with “those people?” But step by step, Peter detailed what happened –
Peter asked his accusers, “So, if God gave them the same gift as was given to us who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, then who am I? Could I stand in God’s way?” Those leaders who had been riled up and angry and indignant that Peter would do such a thing as eat at the home of a sinner… they stood there in silence. “Huh. Well, all right then. God has a plan and we better not get in the way. Everyone can change their hearts and lives and have new life.” “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” Why? This story tells us why. We all belong because God plays no favorites. “Never consider anything unclean that God has declared pure.” Especially people. Because who are we to keep some people out? I’ll never forget watching this play out in real time. Back in the late 1980s, a new church formed in the Twin Cities from a group of social justice minded folks who were unhappy with the lack of that focus at the Metropolitan Community Church in Minneapolis. I had already made a decision to leave that church about a year earlier. When I started seminary, I didn’t have a church home. As many of you already know, I was forced to leave the United Methodist Church of my childhood because in 1984, the General Conference added a line to their Book of Disciple prohibiting “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” from ordination. Without a home, I considered my options, one of which was the Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches, a denomination made up primarily of LGBTQ Christians excluded from every type of denomination from Pentecostal to Catholic. The first time I worshiped at the MCC in Minneapolis, sitting in a massive sanctuary full of 400 worshipers, I cried throughout the service. It was a large congregation, all Christians like me who needed refuge, who either felt excluded or were excluded or had actually been physically kicked out of their churches. The message my first Sunday was “God loves you just as you are.” It was so healing. They had an amazing choir so I joined that almost immediately. The message on the second Sunday was “God loves you just as you are,” as it was on the 3rd and 4th and 10th and Sunday number 26. I was hungry for what was next. I wanted to know what we were called to do with that love. After six months, I decided to look for a United Church of Christ to join. Shortly after, a larger group discerned the same need to move on. They formed a new independent congregation named Spirit of the Lakes. Eventually they decided they wanted to affiliate with a denomination and chose the United Church of Christ. But the UCC 35 years ago wasn’t yet the UCC we know today. The process for a congregation to join the UCC isn’t quick and easy and in the end, requires a vote of the delegates and clergy of all the other churches in the local Association – usually about 30 or 40 congregations. I went as an observer to the meeting where the decision would be made. It was contentious and emotional, lots of scripture weaponized. And then an older man in a wheelchair went forward to speak from the microphone. He held a very worn Bible in his hand and I knew what was coming. More Sodom and Gomorrah, even though Sodom and Gomorrah were actually about the lack of hospitality, just like the lack of hospitality being shown toward Spirit of the Lakes. The man began reading from his weathered Bible. “I saw something like a large linen sheet being lowered from heaven by its four corners.” I thought, what is he talking about?! He continued, repeating certain lines as he went, “never consider anything unclean that God has made pure. God shows no partiality.” And Peter’s question, “who are we to prevent these people from being baptized.” He closed his Bible and rolled back to his place. The room was silent. The question was called. All who vote to accept Spirit of the Lakes stand. The man struggled to stand up. Two people helped him and he stood as straight as he could. He spoke loudly, Aye! The margin was small, but the church that day became Spirit of the Lakes United Church of Christ. Oh, and by the way, for those who don’t know, the General Conference of the United Methodist Church overturned that ban two weeks ago. When the vote was announced, they broke out singing Draw the Circle Wide. I will never read this passage without the image in my mind of a man with his weathered Bible being helped to stand in order to say “We all belong.” This story is why all of us – no matter who we are or where we are on life’s journey – this is why we all belong. It’s not a political statement. It's a deep theological affirmation grounded in scripture. Any objections?
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I was raised in a United Methodist Church and have wonderful memories of my childhood and youth. Our rural church in North Dakota was picturesque, situated at the intersection of two gravel roads on a corner cut out from fields of wheat and sunflowers on land donated by members of our family tree. The men of the church built the church themselves which sits alongside a parsonage and cemetery out back. It could be a movie set. The General Conference of the United Methodist Church just voted to overturn its prohibition against openly LGBTQ clergy. Some are celebrating while others may be embarrassed to be associated with a denomination that would do such a thing. It may feel like a decision that only affects people far from your own experience. I would like to share my story. The church played an absolutely central role in our family – and I was happy about that. I loved church. I was part of a family that showed up any time the doors were open – although, in this rural setting, the doors were never actually locked. Among other things, my mother was a beloved Sunday School teacher and active with missions, connecting us with the state and national levels. We even hosted a missionary from Hong Kong at our kitchen table. My father was a trustee, and I can only imagine every other function too, active in the Brotherhood. We always sat in the same third row pew on the left side – where there is now a plaque on a new window featuring a stalk of wheat in honor of my parents and aunts and uncles. I have fond memories of Sunday School flannelgraph panels illustrating Bible stories, the annual Christmas Eve pageant – always wishing to be Joseph. Vacation Bible School and church camp every summer. Washing dishes after a potluck and listening to women tell stories. Youth group on Sunday evenings – serving as president twice. I was a youth delegate to the state annual conference meeting. In 7th grade I started playing the organ during worship on Sunday mornings, taught by the pastor’s wife. In high school I started riding along with the pastor – Rev. Cushing, never “Ralph” – to the other churches on our three-point charge, which means one pastor serving three churches in a 65-mile circuit every Sunday. He picked me up so I could play the piano at one of the country churches with only 14 worshipers. While driving those country roads, we had wonderfully deep theological conversations. Sometimes I would go along to play the pump organ at the second church in a small town with 25 worshipers. Ours was the “big church.” My aunt was the main organist and I played regularly. I never encountered words of hate in my local church – from either pulpit or people. The love of Jesus was the message. I believed that and so when I was 7-years old, I went forward one night during the annual week of revival services and gave my life to Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Our revivals were quiet. Lots of singing, always in four-part harmony, a sermon by a guest preacher, and an altar call. Emotion came in the form of quiet tears, not shouts of praise. When a Baptist from Texas moved to one of the local farms and joined our church, his enthusiastic “amen!” during very dry sermons still caused people, and the pastor, to jump even years later. I wanted to paint a picture of this idyllic setting. A church that was a place of love and belonging and intertwined family trees – we may have been second or third cousins with over half of the church. The church encouraged my musical abilities long before they were very good. I was a good kid and when I announced that I was called to become a pastor, no one questioned why. I knew that one day my picture would be added to the frame of the many others from this small church who had been called into ministry as pastors and missionaries – and even included my sister and aunt because they married pastors. However, I’ve been ordained over 30 years and my picture never made it to the wall. My mother was sad about that until the day she died at age 90. Why? I graduated from high school in 1983 and only looked at United Methodist colleges. I intended to go straight from college to seminary and become a pastor in North Dakota. I reasoned that I should return home because people who weren’t raised in North Dakota wouldn’t want to move there. Big changes came while I was in college. First, the farm crisis hit hard. Our family like thousands of others were suddenly forced out of business. Those family farms supported small towns and small churches. Both started emptying out. Secondly, I accepted what I had tried to deny for years. I started to understand in high school that I was different but didn’t know exactly how. I was mortified when I figured out that I might be gay. What little I knew about it wasn’t good. I did what I could, including a lot of prayer on my knees, to be something other than what I realized years later I couldn’t change. In the middle of all this, the United Methodist General Conference adopted a rule in the Book of Discipline that prohibited “self-avowed, practicing homosexuals” from ordained ministry. It felt like a particularly cruel joke that I would both be called to ministry and be gay. I knew that when I met with the Board of Ordained Ministry, I would be asked if I was a self-avowed, practicing homosexual. I considered lying since, as my campus minister counseled, it would be an unjust question. In the end, they didn’t ask because they already knew me so well. I had been so active as a youth in the conference. But I decided I wouldn’t be put in the position of deciding to tell the truth or a lie again. I would pursue ministry as a pastor somewhere else – not that there were really many options. But God made a way out of no way. Not long after, I received a phone call inquiring whether I would be interested in serving as the pastor of churches in two small towns during my senior year of college, my first introduction to the United Church of Christ (UCC). I loved being a pastor – at 20 years old, preaching every Sunday, marrying, burying, counseling the grieving. Why they listened to me, I don’t know. God was kept busy helping me. And then I went to seminary – as an out gay man. Ordination in the UCC wasn’t an easy path, but at least the possibility existed. Whereas in 1972 the United Methodist Church declared “Christianity is incompatible with homosexuality,” the UCC ordained the first openly gay man in 1972. I am grateful that the UCC became my home. I have worked and served on every level of the church from national to local and been a pastor for over 30 years. All that service and devotion would have been in the United Methodist Church. I say this with no bitterness. I just want people to know that the decision of the General Conference just made wasn’t about “other people” from some place far away. It directly affected one of the Sunday School children who was nurtured and formed in a country church, who enjoyed listening to Bible stories and watching them illustrated with figures cut out of flannel, who went forward to the altar one night when I was seven years old, and who, at age 16, 42 years ago, God called into ordained ministry. Is it too late to get my picture on the wall outside the sanctuary? My parents would be very happy. |
AuthorI love being a Archives
May 2024
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