Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 28, 2021 “Homesick” Luke 21: 25-31 There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26 People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28 Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” 29 Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; 30 as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. 31 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. It seems such a strange and bizarre way to begin a season that ends with beautiful, tranquil scenes of a silent night and a baby laid in a manger surrounded by angels singing “Hark!” and shepherds tending their flocks while Zoroastrians prepare for a journey Eastward; strange, but such violent imagery in our gospel reading today is always the way Advent begins, with these kinds of apocalyptic Mad Max end of the world scenes straight out of the minds of Hollywood directors. This particular scripture in Luke is within a longer section in which Jesus describes the destruction of the temple, a public statement that kept adding to the conspiracies and plots stirring against him. What he describes is terrifying. Not only the demolished temple, he foretells false prophets, wars and uprisings, food shortages, natural disasters, persecution, and epidemics. Sadly, we know these are not simply apocalyptic Mad Max end of the world scenes straight out of the minds of Hollywood directors. These are the steady news feed on our phones or on the pages of our daily newspaper. We know the fear and foreboding Jesus describes. Do we also know the hope he describes in the fig tree? Do we know, deep within our bones, that whether in birth or death, from incarnation to crucifixion and resurrection, God always has the last word? Do we know, can we imagine, that hope and peace and joy and love are the home God is preparing for us even now? Not in heaven, but as Jesus taught to us pray, on earth, as it is in heaven. Not some pie in the sky bye and bye when we die but something sound on the ground while we’re still around. That’s one of my favorite descriptions of progressive Christianity by UCC pastor Kenneth Samuel. Do we know this deep in our bones? A deep longing, a kind of homesickness even, for a home we have never experienced. But how can we be homesick for a home we’ve never known? I asked my Facebook friends on Friday, “How can home be a place you’ve never been?” Elizabeth Wheeler answered, it’s wherever the Coast Guard sends us! Kathy said it’s walking into just the right house, knowing this is the one you will buy. One person said home is a feeling – safety, warmth, comfort, unconditional love… My best friend said, “You won't know until you are there and you feel it. You can dream and think a place will be your home, but you won't know until that spark occurs.” I didn’t have that spark when I stood on the overlook at Pacific Beach in April. I don’t know what exactly I felt. I certainly had no idea that I was home, or that I had been longing for a home where I had never been. And yet, even though I may live here now, it won’t be my home until my family finally arrives in 2023. I can relate to homesickness too, but not for Denver. It’s for Art to be here. And then it really will be home. All of this got me thinking about the complexities and complications of the word home. Home is not the smell of Christmas cookies baking in the oven for everyone. We may say home is the place where people have to take you in, but that’s not the reality for everyone. The place where who we are will not be allowed under this roof. Home for some is the abuse of a father, the mental illness of a mother, the death of a young sibling, the holiday meal with an empty table – either empty of food or empty of the person with whom we shared that home for 50 years. One person’s nostalgia is another person’s nightmare. This church’s connection with Just In Time for Foster Youth makes me wonder. What if “home” for a 12-year-old has already been 28 different bedrooms and all your belongings in a garbage bag? Among their programs, I love the My First Home program, perhaps the first leaf on a long dormant fig tree that’s been waiting for the opportunity to grow. But the more I thought of home the more I felt grief for refugees fleeing war, whether in camps or crossing one border after another looking for a new home – that kind of safety, warmth, comfort, unconditional love we can take for granted. Or the pain of internment camps forced upon Japanese families who tried to make things “normal” for their children. Or the outrage I felt listening to stories of gratitude by Lakota families on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation for receiving new formaldehyde-soaked FEMA trailers deemed unfit for living by victims of natural disasters, yet welcomed as upgrades on the ‘rez. That and lead pipes in Flint give a whole new meaning to “homesickness.” And I wonder, does the metaphor of the fig tree still work? And yet, hope survives. And amazingly, though lives may be difficult, yet they thrive. Maybe all of this really does prove the point that home is simply where the heart is. The church I served in Cleveland for 15 years was in the inner city. People had difficult lives, some due to choice, much due to circumstance. We turned our parsonage into a three-quarter house for people in drug and alcohol recovery, meaning it was half-way between halfway house and independent living. We had prostitution off the front steps and swept the playground every morning for used needles, but that’s just what you did in order to welcome kids and help them get a head start on their lives. One of the answers for the question I asked on Facebook came from a member of my former church who had his own version of a very difficult life. He said, “I've always felt that the Exodus story was a great template for ‘finding home.’ It was a journey about purging - purging things about yourself and purging the things or people that will hurt you (and like wandering for 40 years, time consuming, too). But, he said, once the purging and processing is fairly well finished, then you're ‘home’ at the landscape you're in.” And then, of course, you turn around and help the next person find their way home too. This Advent we are taking a journey. Each Sunday a step closer to home, not just Christmas. Today begins by recognizing the world Jesus describes is frighteningly real and we express our deep longing. As in the words of our call to worship, homesickness for a just world and the end of suffering. Fiona and Ben shared so clearly the home we seek – a world where all are fed. A world with more bridges than walls. A world with wide open doors. A world full of contagious laughter, where trees grow tall and rivers run clean and all people feel at home, in their bodies, in the church, and in their physical homes. And for those without, an actual home. In the words of our liturgy for today, we are homesick for that world, even though it’s a place we have never been. That’s where we are on this first Sunday of Advent. Endless warring factions and divisions. Waves of pandemic surges and new variants. We can express hope, or allow cynicism to win. We can hope against hope, or we can throw in the towel. We can insist on a better world, or we can assume it’s impossible and be satisfied we’ve made it and let everyone else fight over the scraps. But that’s not us. We have stories of resilient hope to draw upon and to share. We know that home is here and what we make of it. And, not yet. Not until everyone is at home in a world of peace, joy, and love. But could it be that the world is about to turn? Theme and phrases are part of the resources for the First Sunday of Advent by A Sanctified Art written by Rev. Sarah Speed. sanctifiedart.org
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Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 21, 2021 “Rooted and Grounded in Love So That” Ephesians 3: 16-21 - NRSV with inclusive adaptations I pray that, according to the riches of God's glory, you may granted strength in your inner being with power through the Spirit, 17 and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. 18 I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. 20 Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, 21 to God be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen. This text is so full of images and long sentences, I want to linger with it a little while longer, to imagine, and soak it in. This whole passage is a prayer. “I pray, that according to the riches of God’s glory…” Right from the beginning, the author invites us to think on a bigger, grander, more amazing scale. “I pray that, according to the riches of God’s glory, you are granted strength in your inner being…” I love that line. We’ve really been tested on that one, haven’t we? During Covid lockdown, months of pandemic separation from family, friends, church – a normal life. Covid required us to explore the depths of our capacity for resilience. One of the things the church did do, even if on Zoom, was remind us that God’s strength helped us, helps us, during our most difficult days, when we feel most overwhelmed by loneliness and isolation. “Strength in our inner being” is what gets us through challenges like chemo appointments. But strength in our inner being is really necessary on days like Friday, when the verdict came in that the man who shot three and killed two people was found not-guilty on all charges. Some people may have heard the news and felt disappointed or sad. Angry. But I ask us to focus on the deep disparity revealed in this moment, not just our despair. Once again, lives are not judged equally. Once again, justice for white and Black is not equal. While some despaired, for others it tore, once again, to the very core of their being. The continued betrayal. I know many are scared to the center of their inner being for the verdict for the murderers of Ahmaud Arbery. Helpless, we can pray, give us strength. In our inner being. Again, the prayer starts, I pray, that according to the riches of God’s glory, you are granted strength in your inner being, it continues, “with power through the Spirit…” The source of our resilience. And “that Christ may dwell in your hearts…” I asked our Lunch and Lectionary group on Thursday if that phrase made sense to them. And almost everyone said yes. One person said, it’s when I get out of my head. Another added, when I stop thinking all the time and let myself feel. That’s when I feel Christ dwell in my heart. We wondered aloud together whether that required us to “invite” Christ into our hearts. That’s a common phrase many of us have heard in church. Often prefaced, “you must” invite Christ into your heart. I like the invitational part, but not the must. And it raises the question, what if I don’t? What if I don’t invite? In fact, what if I actively refuse? Does that mean Christ doesn’t or wouldn’t or won’t dwell in my heart? That question is further confused by the next two words. That Christ may dwell in your hearts “through faith…” But our group all insisted that Christ, or God, or the Spirit – whoever, whatever it is – something holy can be felt, and is felt, regardless of our faith or invitation. It made us ask, did the author Ephesians forget Paul’s own experience? Paul was on his way to Damascus to persecute Christians when “suddenly a light from heaven flashed about him. And he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’” He didn’t invite Christ into his heart. He didn’t have faith. He was knocked to the ground and went blind by his encounter with Jesus. Many of us have also felt an encounter with God or mystery or holiness or the sacred that knocked us off our feet. It doesn’t require faith. It’s a gift for Christ to dwell in our hearts through faith and, the prayer continues, “as you are being rooted and grounded in love.” Yes, it’s a gift. As you are being… Some translations make a more direct statement: for example, in the Common English Bible, the line is “As a result of having strong roots in love.” Very business-like. But I’m really drawn to the other one. “As you are being rooted and grounded in love.” As you are being… Ongoing, dynamic, deepening… Some might see that as the difference between a person “doing” and a person “being.” But then the prayer really opens up. “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend…” Comprehend. To me, comprehend is much more than trying to understand. To understand something, we take in all the facts and come to a conclusion. OK, now I understand. Or not. To not comprehend means I can’t wrap my head around this. It’s different than understanding, which is a more rational, in your head, way of thinking. I think that’s exactly what this text from Ephesians is trying to communicate. The prayer is that we have the power to “feel” comprehension, “with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth” of love. Love so vast, so completely beyond our limited understanding that the author of Ephesians prays for us to be able to comprehend the incomprehensible. And it keeps going. I pray that you have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, “and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge…” Remember what I said at the very beginning? The author keeps inviting us to think, or perhaps better, to feel on a bigger, grander, more amazing scale. It’s what we prayed in worship last week: To be “free from a vision that is too small and a purpose that is too trivial.” Church folks sometimes think too small. We think about what we don’t have. Or focus on keeping what we have for as long as possible. Such that some churches have stopped living outside of themselves and simply preserve their resources, their shrinking, dwindling resources, for the last few remaining members. A dying church doesn’t give itself away. A healthy church always does and as it gives itself away, it grows. Healthy people too. I read a wonderful article in The Atlantic this week called “‘Self-Care’ Isn’t the Fix for Late-Pandemic Malaise” by Jamil Zaki. Professor at Stanford and author of the book, get this title, “The War for Kindness.” He said, If years could be assigned a dominant feeling, for example in 1929, despair, for 2008, hope, then the dominant word for 2021 might be exhaustion. Others have suggested the word languishing. Professor Zaki said we might need a little more self-care. But, adds that “self-care alone won’t fulfill people’s psychological needs as we rebound from the pandemic. We must reclaim connection and meaning. That comes from caring for one another, not just from caring for ourselves.” He said, people are psychologicaly intertwined, such that helping others is a kindness to ourselves and watching over ourselves supports others. His point is that, despite our exhaustion, to truly emerge from the pandemic, we need more than self-care. Maybe the folks in these pews don’t have to be convinced to help others. I suspect one of our concerns is burnout – a big concern for activists. Did you know that the Black Panthers were big proponents of yoga and mindfulness? Did you know they sponsored programs on preventative medicine, nutrition, and exercise? Activists said, “self-care, especially by Black women, is a radical act. It denies the oppression of those who would seek to reduce them.” It’s a brilliant insight. Self-care denies the power of those who seek to oppress. Angela Davis said, If you want to change the world, you have to learn to take care of yourself. Back to the prayer in Ephesians. I pray that you have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, (you know, bigger, grander, more amazing,) “so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” So that you may be filled. Period? Amen? Is that it? So that we’re filled with the fullness of God? Shouldn’t there be a second “So that?” So that we can serve others. That’s the fullness of God in my mind. A full circle. Helping others is kindness to ourselves and watching over ourselves supports others. Finally, the prayer in Ephesians ends: “Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine…” This keeps building, getting larger and more grandiose, expanding both outward and inward at the same time. The prayer is like fireworks at the beginning: As we are being rooted and grounded in love (awe), the power at work within us (awe) accomplishing abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine (awe). But like the end of a fireworks show when so many fireworks are going off at once, you don’t know where to look. The breadth and length and height and depth. With all the saints. The love of Christ that surpasses knowledge. Filled with the fullness of God. The riches of God’s glory. And then silence. As we are being rooted and grounded in love. To accomplish abundantly far more than we can ask or imagine. Got the idea? Now I want you to imagine that scale here. Not for a bigger building. Not for more members. Not for a better reputation. None of those things that the world defines as success that churches and pastors can get caught up in. No, I want you to imagine for Mission Hills and to imagine for yourself what this prayer for the Ephesians means. To think higher and deeper, longer and wider, about that which we could accomplish, not on our own, but with the power of the Spirit. Not for ourselves but for others in a way that comes back to help ourselves and we start again. To recognize, the deeper the roots, the greater the fruit. Think of the grand scale that members had 50 years ago when you envisioned a community preschool. What does Mission Hills need now? Think of the grand scale 50 years ago when that 13-story high-rise apartment tower was built for Section 8 seniors. Can you imagine thinking like that today? Not to replicate that, but could we feel on a scale that is beyond our comprehension, far more than we can ask or imagine, worthy of that feeling of the fullness of God. Maybe in addition to the roots a church needs, like personnel ministry and a property ministry and so forth, we need a ministry for dreamers and envisioners and imaginers. But let me be clear, this isn’t what someone else should do. This is not about others. This is about you. As you are being rooted and grounded in love, what are we called to accomplish beyond your imagination? Do you have some ideas? In a minute I’m going to ask. Just a month now as your pastor, I can feel that kind of confidence building… I can hear dreams being whispered. I can see it coming, what if we… That’s why I’m excited about our first little step beyond what we are doing now with a reimagined staff position for a Director of Ministry with Children and Families. If you didn’t already read about it or hear about it, we had been looking to hire a new Director of Christian Education. Their responsibilities would have been primarily for kids who come to church, to Sunday School, and primarily for children whose families are already here. In that model, if you miss church to go to soccer, you miss out. But can you envision a vibrant ministry that also includes families at home and in their lives beyond the church, that recognizes the complexity and tangled schedules of modern family life? And what about families and children who would never think of coming to church? If we want to build a world that is open, inclusive, just, and compassionate, by what methods do we help shape the lives of kids in our neighborhood? How can we give of ourselves for them? Or what about seeing the whole church as an intergenerational family that eats and plays and learns together? We’re just starting this journey of thinking at least a little bit bigger. And a little bit grander. A little more amazing. It’s a start. The deeper we are being rooted and grounded in love, the farther our horizons can expand. And it starts today with your commitments. Not the size of your pledge, but maybe the first step to make one. Well, maybe the size too, maybe you get caught up in the vision and can’t help yourself, but that’s between you and God. Not you and me. But, bottom line, I hope you begin to think, to feel, in terms of this magnanimous prayer: Now to the One, who by the power [already] at work within us, is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever (but that’s still not enough) and ever. Amen Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 14, 2021 “It’s a Complicated Story” I want to go back and finish the story of Ruth today, but before I proceed, let me recall the first part of the story. Naomi and her husband moved to Moab because there was a famine in Bethlehem. No one would choose to move to Moab. Moabites were among the most hated and despised people in the land. But just like immigrants fleeing terror or starvation anywhere in the world today, it doesn’t matter if they’ll welcome you. You have a family to feed. While they were in Moab, Naomi’s husband died, but she still had two sons. They married two local girls, but with names like Sickly and Caput, it’s not surprising that they died before they had children, leaving their wives Ruth and Orpah both widows and childless. So now the three women have to figure out what to do. Naomi decided to move back to Bethlehem. Ruth pledged her loyalty and fidelity to Naomi and returned with her. Orpah went back to her people. And yes, by the way, the legend is true that Oprah Winfrey was meant to be named Orpah, but it was misspelled on her birth certificate So, remember, Ruth is a Moabite. Moving to Bethlehem, where the people hated and despised Moabites would have been unpleasant, if not downright risky. Ruth’s bigger concern, however, was not for herself but for Naomi because, after all, Ruth’s name means Friend. That’s where we ended our story last time. As I said, Ruth not only loved her friend Naomi. She was willing to love FOR her. You will hear that again today. So, as we continue the story, they have arrived in Bethlehem just in time for the harvest. One way that widows and foreigners could survive was through the practice of gleaning, a form of charity to which they were specifically entitled. This is how it worked: widows and foreigners were allowed to go behind the harvesters and pick up what was left behind. A generous property owner might tell the harvesters to leave some of the heads of grain on the stalk – making it easier to pluck. Others who were maybe less generous would have simply let foreigners pick fallen kernels up off the dirt. Either way, it’s very hard work. So now, listen for the Word of God from the 2nd chapter of the Book of Ruth: Naomi had a respected relative through the family of her husband Elimelech. His name was Boaz, a man of worth. 2 Ruth the Moabite said to Naomi, “Let me go to the field so that I may glean among the ears of grain behind someone in whose eyes I might find favor.” Naomi replied to her, “Go, my daughter.” 3 So she went; she arrived and she gleaned in the field behind the harvesters. By chance, it happened to be the portion of the field that belonged to Boaz who 4 just then arrived from Bethlehem. He said to the harvesters, “May the Lord be with you.” And they said to him, “May the Lord bless you.” “May the Lord, May the Lord…” I’m going to come back to that line. 5 Boaz asked his overseer, “To whom does this young woman belong?” 6 He answered, “She’s a young Moabite woman, the one who returned with Naomi from Moab. 7 She asked, ‘Please let me glean so that I might gather up grain from among the bundles behind the harvesters.’ She arrived and has been on her feet from the morning until now, and has sat down for only a moment.” 8 Boaz went to Ruth and said, “Don’t go glean in another field; don’t go anywhere else. Instead, stay here with my young women. 9 Keep your eyes on the field that they are harvesting and go along after them. I’ve ordered the young men not to assault you. Whenever you are thirsty, go to the jugs and drink from what the young men have filled.” Wait a minute. “I’m not going to let them assault you?!” I’m going to come back to that line too! 10 Then Ruth bowed down, face to the ground, and replied to him, “How is it that I’ve found favor in your eyes, that you notice me? I’m an immigrant.” 11 Boaz responded, “Everything you did for your mother-in-law after your husband’s death has been fully reported to me: that you left behind your father, your mother, and the land of your birth, and came to a people you hadn’t known beforehand. 12 May you receive a rich reward from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you’ve come to seek refuge. May the Lord reward you for your deed.” “The Lord, The Lord, The Lord…” That’s what Art says every time he asks how much longer it’s going to take to write my sermon. He laughs and says, “Just say The Lord, The Lord, The Lord” and sit down. But, on a serious note, I do want to pause for a moment on the word “Lord.” Dr. Wilda Gafney is an amazing biblical scholar, a PhD from Duke. She was a pastor in the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church and is now an Episcopal priest and professor at Brite Divinity School. I bring up all these credentials because this is a Black woman who is not to be dismissed when she asks, “Why would we use the word Lord – a male human-slave-holding title – for God?” And it’s not just once in a while. Almost every time the original text says YHWH – or as we say, Yahweh – it is translated The Lord. She rightly asks, Why? The letters YHWH simply express that God’s name is so completely beyond our knowing and too holy to even say that we use these letters as a substitute. But when translated into English, it has almost always been translated “The Lord.” What, she asks, was the process that ended with using the word “Lord” for a God who liberated the people from slavery? She reminds us to ask, Who is translating the scriptures we have learned to receive as words from God? Whose fingerprints and ideologies are on and in the sacred texts you read, proclaim and have proclaimed to you?[1] She argues instead for the ancient biblical and rabbinical practice of using “descriptive expressions for the name of God,” something which can be said for that which cannot. For example, instead of Lord, use the “name” “She Who Is Delight,” or “Mother of Creation,” or “Inscrutable God.” Words or expressions that describe the God who cannot be fully named. If you were here two weeks ago, you may have noticed that when the words of the scripture were projected onto the wall, as I was reading I had changed out the word “lord” for the word “God.” That sometimes-awkward process is part of liberating our minds and hearts and ears from an unconscious bias toward images that uphold, or rather bless the idea that if God is male then male is God. Or if God is lord, then inequality is God-given. Lord just assumes that some people are meant to be held in bondage. Well, wrong. There are ten more sermons in there so I have to move on. But just to point out that in this verse, Dr. Gafney translates YHWH as “The Holy One of Old.” As in, may the Holy One of Old reward your faithfulness. But it could have been May the “God Who Sees” reward your faithfulness, or “She Who Birthed the Earth.”[2] This section from Ruth is completed with verse 13: Ruth told Boaz, “May I continue to find favor in your eyes, sir, because you’ve comforted me and because you’ve spoken kindly to your female servant—even though I’m not one of your female servants.” But Dr. Gafney translates verse 13 this way: Then Ruth said to Boaz, “May I continue to find favor in your eyes, my lord (an accurate description of his position), for you have comforted me and have spoken to the heart of your slave woman, [even though] I am not one of your slave women.” Dr. Gafney is among womanist scholars, Black women scholars, who advocate for using the word slave when that’s what it really meant. People who belonged to other people. Modern scholarship, meaning white scholarship, often prefers to use the word servant in settings like these. But that hides the real dynamic at play here. Don’t whitewash images of people belonging to people. What do you feel when you hear the word servant? What do you feel when you hear the word slave? The intent behind the use of one over the other shouldn’t be to make the listener more comfortable. OK, so I may have gotten a little off track, but that’s because this story is complicated. There are real power dynamics at play here. This isn’t a fairy tale. Not to mention, the story of Ruth also includes some really, um, awkward scenes, including what happens next. Coming up, chapter 3 is the X-rated section. If you go home and read it, first close the door, draw the drapes, and put on some Marvin Gaye. Ready? Naomi told Ruth that Boaz would be down on the threshing floor. “You should bathe, put on some perfume, wear nice clothes, and then go down to the threshing floor. Don’t make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, notice the place where he is lying. Then go, uncover his feet, and lie down. And he will tell you what to do.” To be clear, feet is a euphemism, a prelude to the next chapter when Ruth is pregnant. I was curious how a children’s Bible would handle this passage. I thought, it probably says that Ruth and Boaz dated, got married, had a baby, and lived happily ever after. I checked and all it said about the feet uncovering incident on the winnowing floor was, no kidding, Boaz was “nice to Ruth.” The Book of Ruth really does have a nice happily ever after ending. Ruth, a desperate and despised Moabite who suffered one tragedy after another, is the great-grandmother of King David. Sweet Naomi was no longer Bitter but Sweet again. But easily overlooked in our rush to end the story on a high note are a couple of lines that cry out for us to notice. You know, when someone needs us to help them they don’t usually say, “Help me.” They drop clues, hoping their friends can read between the lines.” And one of those clues is dropped right out in the open. Did you notice? Boaz tells Ruth, 9 Keep your eyes on the field that they are harvesting and go along after them. I’ve ordered the young men not to assault you. Whenever you are thirsty, go to the jugs and drink from what the young men have filled.” Wait. What? Why would Boaz even think to tell his young men not to touch her? Might it not cause us to wonder what would actually happen to a vulnerable young widowed Moabite? This was a dangerous world for women like Ruth. Israelites tended to view foreign women as promiscuous and enticing. Would any of them have cared about her? Or would they have asked, “what was she wearing?” Boaz wouldn’t have stepped in to protect Ruth if he didn’t know what really happened at night. Of course, among the many ironies, is that she then goes to him in the middle of the night. But that’s another, “Wait, what?” Naomi told Ruth to bathe and wear perfume, etc. and lay next to his uncovered feet. Naomi, what are you telling her to do? On its way to a happily ever after ending, these readings, as Dr. Gafney suggests, provide the necessary if unwelcome opportunity to talk about – and not judge – the real-life experiences of foreign women, or anyone who needs to do whatever is necessary to survive. Then, and now. Yesterday was Trans Day of Remembrance, many of whom were assaulted and killed in the only line of work they were allowed - as sex workers trying to survive. It's estimated that half of sex workers in Ukraine are single mothers. "If I don't do this, I'll die." The Book of Ruth rejects judgment, then as today. It explicitly refutes the purity codes of the priestly class against mixed marriages, among other things. These people wouldn’t even allow you to wear a coat made of wool and linen. That’s mixing two fibers. These are the kinds of thing that white supremacists quote. They haven’t read the whole Bible. King David’s great-grandma and Boaz were of two completely different religions and cultures. And Christians, listen up. The genealogy of Jesus from Abraham to King David in the Gospel of Matthew contains only three women. Mixed marriage Ruth, Rahab, commonly thought to make her living from prostitution, and Tamar, one of the most tragically abused women in the Bible.[3] These three exceptionally brave women are named as Jesus’ ancestors. All of which goes to say, I don’t believe religion is meant for the pure and holy, if there even is such a thing. Or meant to make us pure and holy. Rather, I believe religion helps all of us with our own travails and tragedies and travesties of justice, and helps us cope in a complicated world, when disconnected from the pursuit of power and wealth. Religion, when disconnected from the pursuit of power and wealth, should make us more compassionate, more understanding of how difficult it is to be a human being, and especially one who is desperate. And if it doesn’t, then find a new religion. If at the end of worship we don’t leave trying to be more open and loving, we’ve been doing it wrong. If your church tries to tell you who is in and who is out, it’s not a church of Jesus Christ. It’s a club with a tax ID number. You may have heard or even once said, “good Christian boys and girls don’t do things like that.” Well, that means they’ve never read the Book of Ruth. But more importantly, they don’t know at all what it takes to survive in an often very cruel world, only made worse when the cruelty is by religious people. Ruth was brave and courageous. She and Naomi sought creative solutions within a system that severely limited their options. As we shake our heads in disbelief at all she had to do, I can see her look over to us and say, “Don’t judge. It’s complicated.” If only we could look at the struggles of others around us with the same compassion. With a nod that says, “I understand.” And sometimes by offering to help. At other times, it’s more important to simply offer reassurance. For our eyes to communicate, “I know because I’ve been there too.” To say, “may God, She Who Sees, bless you." Wilda C. Gafney, Womanist Midrash and A Woman's Lectionary for the Whole Church I want to thank those who have served our country as members of the armed services. We appreciate the service you have given, often very sacrificially, on our behalf. And invite us to pray for the day when occasions such as this are a distant memory, when we have stopped creating conditions for which there is a need for more veterans to honor. As many of you know, Veterans Day was originally observed as Armistice Day marking the end of “the war to end all wars” at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month. In Latin, armistice means literally “arms stand still.” In 1918, Congress declared this date “should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations.” Since it ended up not being the war that ended all wars, in 1954 it seems they gave up on the ideals of Armistice Day and renamed it Veterans Day. Instead of pursuing peace anymore, we turned it into a day for heroes. I would imagine that many if not most veterans would rather pursue peace than be honored for bravery. The words of the original call to Armistice Day still resonate: first, a day of thanksgiving for the service of veterans. But let’s not forget their caregivers who walk with them after bullets and bombs have stopped flying but the ravages of war continue through injuries of body, mind, and spirit. Secondly, Armistice Day was declared a day of prayer by people of all faiths for the time when arms stand still. Let’s also pray for the end of the alarming number of suicides by veterans. Or find veterans who are homeless on our streets. But not just thoughts and prayers. The third thing Congress declared in 1918 is a day of exercises to perpetuate peace through “good will and mutual understanding between nations.” What exercises could we imagine to pursue this ideal? But perhaps we could start by not just working toward peace between nations but among the people of our own deeply divided and polarized nation. What if we worked together for a world that doesn’t need more heroes? So we can stop making more veterans. Can’t we agree on that? So, thank you to all who have given your service. And together let’s work and pray for the day when such service will no longer be necessary. Have a grateful day. Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] November 7, 2021 “She Gave All She Had. Why?” Mark 12: 38-44 41 He 38 As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” 41 He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” Emma Raducanu is an 18-year-old tennis player who withdrew from a match at Wimbledon this summer because she was having difficulty breathing.[1] John McEnroe suggested that she was merely “emotionally overwhelmed.” John McEnroe, who made a career out of getting ejected from tournaments, berating umpires, and smashing his racket, called her emotionally overwhelmed? When Simone Biles chose not to compete in some competitions at the Olympics, citing concern for her mental health, a bunch of men piled on with disgusting comments, like Charlie Kirk who called her a "shame to the country” and a “sociopath.” He said, "We are raising a generation of weak people like Simone Biles.” The Texas Deputy Attorney General called her a “selfish, childish national embarrassment.” Piers Morgan made deeply offensive comments about Biles and Naomi Osaka, the young tennis player who also chose to prioritize her own well-being. When confronted, he took no responsibility and instead accused the two women of playing the “mental health and race cards.”[2] I don’t know what a “mental health” card is supposed to mean. I guess it’s a dog whistle meant to demean women as hysterical. It certainly doesn’t suggest that it is equally important to care for mental health as it is a torn ligament. So, what does this have to do with the widow and the Temple treasury? Well, what if along with Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka, the woman had said no? What if she had pointed out the failings of the religious leaders to provide for widows and orphans? In response, she would have been called every name in the book. Selfish. Childish. A sociopath. A shame to her religion. One of the most-often repeated commands in the Hebrew Scriptures is the care of widows and orphans and immigrants. The prophets repeatedly castigated the faithful for failing to protect the most vulnerable people in society, citing widows over and over. And here we have a story about a widow giving up literally every last cent she owned. Why would she have only had two coins in the first place? We should absolutely praise her faithfulness. She loved the Lord without question and demonstrates dependence upon God to provide, willingly or not. She was the exemplar of generosity, to do all she could with everything she could, undeniably worthy of our admiration. But… shouldn’t we also ask why she was forced to depend on God to survive? I would argue the story isn’t about her, or at least, not only about her. This is a story about the men who utterly fail her. Except that they didn’t just fail her. That sounds like “oh, that’s too bad.” This widow isn’t just “down on her luck.” Remember the word “devour”? While devouring feasts from the head places of honor at banquet tables overflowing with abundance, these men, religious leaders for goodness sake, also “devoured” widow’s houses. With that word, devour, the NRSV really paints the picture. Their wealth was at her expense. The long fringe on these men’s robes was paid for by the sacrifice she was expected to and did make. The widow here isn’t down on her luck. A “poor old widow.” She was consigned there. What if the widow had said no? I know she had no such power, but we do. And so, with a social justice lens, with a Jesus lens, shouldn’t we ask?[3] Traditional biblical commentators call the poor widow a “good example of devotion to God.” What if instead commentators said, the “religious authorities were a bad example of devotion to God.” Actually, a full interpretation of this text would be “and.” This poor widow is a good example of one’s faithfulness to God and watch out for anyone who want to be noticed for their magnanimous giving with one hand out front, taking with their other hand behind the back. Who devour poor widows as victims of their schemes. With all that said, this story really is an excellent example that it isn’t the size of one’s gift that matters but the intention behind it. Is it some spare change from off the top or something that causes us to explore the depths of our generosity? Just remember, the size of the gift is never small. The question is the size of the heart that gives. And what sized heart did the widow expose? This is the lectionary gospel reading for today, perhaps an odd companion to All Saints day. In the spirit of the full interpretation of the story, we may all know someone who is a cautionary tale exemplified by the religious authorities. We know what not to do. But even more importantly, I am certain that among the saints, we all know someone who exemplified the spirit of the widow – someone with one shirt who would give it off their backs. Today I pray the inspiration of their lives will continue through us. [1] https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/07/sports/tennis/wimbledon-emma-raducanu.html [2] https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/11/liberating-power-no/620612/ [3] Like Emilie M. Townes in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 4 |
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March 2024
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