Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] August 29, 2021 “Hearing Before Doing” James 1: 19-22, 26-27 19You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. 21Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls. 22Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. 26If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. 27Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Parent, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world. “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers.”[1] Another translation says: “Don’t deceive yourselves by only hearing what the Word says, but do it!”[2] And another: “Don’t, I beg you, only hear the message, but put it into practice.”[3] And, “Act on what you hear.”[4] And the classic King James, “Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only.” I like the extra “ye!” of the King James. This is a verse Park Hill UCC really believes in. And not merely believes it, but does it. It’s one of many reasons why the past 18 months have been so difficult. We were often left with the question – what can we do? Prior to the pandemic, on Tuesdays we welcomed 20 overnight guests. From the first time we hosted in 2014 until we had to stop, that was over 150 nights. More importantly, that’s 3,000 nights where a woman had a nutritious meal and a safe place to sleep. Twenty doesn’t sound like a very big number until you realize the full impact of that repeated 150 times. But the pandemic hit and we were left with the question – what can we do now? Pat Smith rallied us to become the “water church.” Since the pandemic through today, our members and neighbors in Park Hill have worked together to distribute – wait for it – 33,000 bottles of water. Plus, now, instead of Tuesday evenings, on Tuesday mornings, members drive up to the church with lunch bags. More than 1,000 meals, and bottles of water, and counting. Prior to the pandemic, Joan Root coordinated a monthly hot meal for homeless and low-income senior citizens. Those homemade casseroles also had to become acts of love in a lunch bag – now at about 1,500 and counting. What can we do? That’s what we can do. That and much more. The Colorado Village Collaborative was our mission partner in June, the ones who run the safe outdoor shelter camps where some of our former WHI guests now stay. They received over $2,300 and volunteers from our congregation. Through our mission partner program, last month, $1,400 helped restock the shelves at the Greater Park Hill Food Pantry. Offerings for Safe House Denver in February, disaster relief in March, MetroCaring in April, gun violence prevention in May, and orphans in Ethiopia in August. And of course, in January, to prevent evictions we contributed almost $13,000. Plus, those piles of school supplies and backpacks last week! Look at what we can do together! It may have been a difficult year – a year and a half to be exact – for a church that believes in doing, not merely hearing, yet it has also been a time of great creativity. I can’t even begin to count the number of times we have had to ask and answer the question “what can we do about that?” In addition to our food ministries, we adapted and adapted again and re-adapted music, worship, Sunday School, youth group, study groups and support groups. When we started meeting in person, we adapted again. Look at our fantastic Stream Team in the back of the church and imagine how much the church has grown online. Good and faithful servants, we’ve done a lot of good doing. But then… Since I announced my call to San Diego, questions have included, “Now what do we do?” And I sympathize fully. I mean, hasn’t there already been enough change? But more importantly, hasn’t there already been enough loss? Grief added to the grief we feel at the senseless prolonging of the pandemic, fights over masking kids in school, chaos and now death in Afghanistan, apocalyptic scenes of wildfires and smokey skies, from images of suffering in Haiti to unprecedented flooding in Tennessee. Bouncing around in our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies are the classic feelings of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But grief, as we all know, doesn’t come in a neat and tidy order. Elizabeth Kubler Ross describes them as stages that bounce back and forth over and over, all of which multiplied can feel even more overwhelming. And now we have to add one more thing? We can find ourselves short with one another for no other apparent reason than to recognize, in our personal lives as well as a nation, we are tired of disorder and change– especially over things about which we have absolutely no control. Can’t just a few things stay the same? A protégé of Kubler Ross added two more stages of grief: initially, there is shock, before denial and so forth, and eventually, not just acceptance, but reconstruction. I especially like those additions. Honoring all feelings, not rushing, but in the end, the hope of redemption through reconstructing our lives after the loss. That’s not just another thing we must “do.” Therefore, as much as I love the words of James to do and not merely hear, doing and hearing cannot be disconnected. Before we do, we must hear. And while we do, we must hear. And even after we are done doing our doing, we must hear. Or in other words, to balance doing with listening. Deep listening. Take a breath. Transitions are a good time, an important time, for breathing, and especially for listening. Take another breath. Once again, our Governance Team jumped right into action and developed a plan – a group that already had plenty to do. But I especially ask your prayers upon them that they not only do what must be done immediately, but then they take the time needed among themselves to hear and lead the congregation to construct the future together. I trust they will. But that’s one reason why in the UCC, churches don’t just go out and get a new pastor. There is time intentionally set aside for listening before doing. I ask for the same prayer. That I take the time to stop and listen, to hear the voice of God, before jumping in too quickly to do a new thing. At Lunch and Lectionary this week, someone suggested that I should tell you how I’m doing with this transition. The congregation, they said, wants to know how you’re feeling too. I’m afraid that if I do that, I might cry, but here it goes. But first, it is part of our vocation as pastors that we come to a church and love people and walk through their best and worst days. From days when we have been called to rush to the hospital, to days when we receive a call out of the blue from a long-ago youth group member asking us to officiate their marriage or baptize their baby. We wonder, how can they be old enough to have a child?! We invest everything into people’s lives and then leave. How do I feel? And you do the same with us. Amazingly, you confess your biggest regrets to us and together we ponder your deepest questions; we listen as you contemplate divorce or come to grips with a fatal diagnosis. We accompany people to their death and help families cope. And then we leave you? Take a breath. But to honor our ordination, we vow to separate in order for a new pastor to come, whom we pray loves the people as much as we did. Just as Roy Smith did when he left, just like Phil Campbell did when he left, just like the pastor after me does when she or he follows a call to their new ministry. We are chapters in a long legacy of faithful ministry. More than a few pastors have been told, “just remember, I’m going to be here longer than you are.” I try to hear that as a promise, not a threat! And so, how am I? I’m grieving. Some days expressed in exhaustion. Some days in irritation. And then I try to remember to breathe. Take a breath. Even while at the same time I am excited, really excited, for new opportunities to keep learning and growing. And loving the people with whom I will now marry, bury, and baptize as a chapter in their church’s story. Just know that because of you, they will get a better minister as a result of how you shaped and formed me. The failures and successes we shared. Take a breath. But my job right now is to do a sermon, so back to the text and my final thoughts on hearing and doing. For all the overachieving doers among us, Rev. Steven Bonsey cautions,[5] “I’ve spent a fair amount of my adult life acting on the illusion that after planting something in the ground, I could force it to grow. But in the pause between planting and harvesting, the seed must sprout and grow on its own. In those moments, what we do has absolutely no bearing on plant growth.” He said, “Progress toward the harvest is furthered as much by sleep as by rising.” That could become a dangerous justification for doing nothing, but rather, in the interim, in this transition, I think it’s a helpful invitation to listen. By that I take his caution to mean, in any transition period, as the seed grows, if we don’t stop constantly doing, by the time the harvest comes, we may be too burned out. Or too busy to notice. And have you ever noticed how some people keep themselves too busy doing something else rather than allow themselves to feel grief. Too busy doing to hear. As much as there is work to do, I believe it’s a word both you and I need to hear. So, take a breath. [1] NRSV [2] Complete Jewish Bible [3] JB Phillips Bible [4] The Message [5] “The Activist as Contemplative: Resting for Social Change.”
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